


Smoke and Mirrors

by bucciaratissun



Series: Monster husbands [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - High School, Bondage, Breeding, Bullying, Degradation, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obsession, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion, Stalking, Swearing, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 39
Words: 74,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucciaratissun/pseuds/bucciaratissun
Summary: A collection of oneshots and drabbles from my Tumblr mentioning dark!Steve Rogers and dark!Bucky Barnes.Please consider the tags before reading.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Monster husbands [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071155
Comments: 146
Kudos: 544





	1. Rx Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> criminal!Bucky x Reader
> 
> James Buchanan Barnes was the most difficult patient you had ever treated as a criminal psychiatrist. His release from prison doesn’t make things easier for you. 

You turned off the phone and threw it on a chair, clenching your teeth. Whatever Dr. Strange wanted you to do, you wouldn’t stay another day in this goddamn place, waiting to be abducted or even murdered. It was too much. Today you found the new bottle of your favourite perfume on your nightstand. It wasn’t there before you went to bed last night. In fact, you could hardly remember the last time you bought yourself a perfume.

It all started two months ago when James Buchanan Barnes, the patient you had been working with during those seven long years, was finally released from state prison after serving 15 years of life sentence. The Soldier, as prisoners called him, once gone mad and murdered his commander. Bucky – that’s how he asked you to call him during your first séance – had PTSD, antisocial personality disorder, and severe depression. You could say he became better after all those years of treatment, including insane doses of antidepressants and mood stabilizers, but it was not enough to set him free. He was dangerous, psychotic even, yet devilishly clever: he knew how to portray a man who had reconsidered his life choices and deeply regretted taking someone’s life. 

You knew he had never truly cared. Patients like him did not have capacity for remorse.

You started treating him once you became a criminal psychiatrist; Bucky was among your very first patients. Now when you thought of it, you could hardly believe Dr. Strange just transferred a patient like him to you, a young girl with too little experience to handle an unpredictable psychopath hiding behind a façade of a victim. Of course, you made many mistakes, starting from telling Bucky about your own past and some mental issues. That time you believed you can gain trust of your patients by being more open about yourself. You were a complete idiot.

Now there was not much to do once his time in prison was up. You didn’t have true evidence to make him stay. A part of you wasn’t even sure you wanted it – when a riot had started in the prison three years ago, it was Bucky who shielded you with his own body from Brock Rumlow, a serial killer and your second most dangerous patient. Bucky was the only reason you were still alive.

But he was also the reason why you were leaving in haste, packing only necessities. 

It all started quite innocently with him sending you flowers and thanking for everything you had done for him. It didn’t alert you that he knew what your favourite flowers were. You thought it was just a coincidence since bouquets like these were sold in any flower shop in the city.

Then you stumbled upon him in a café where you often had your breakfast on weekends. It could alert you, but Bucky was sitting with a charming red-haired woman, her manicured hand resting on his thigh. She didn’t quite strike you as his sister, especially since you knew he had no relatives left after his violent father died in a car accident. Seeing such a beautiful woman with him just two weeks after Bucky was released from a prison was surprising, but you knew how seductively charming Barnes could be. Besides, he looked really good in his biker jacket, his tight black jeans showing his strong muscular legs.

In the end, you just talked to both of them a little and gave your advice on which dishes to choose. You walked away, praying you were wrong about Bucky and hoping he could settle peacefully like some of your former patients. Actually, even though many of them were imprisoned again, others were able to return to normal life. Some even had families now – from time to time you received thank-you notes with nice photos and many heartwarming words. It was probably one of the few things that made you keep your job.

It was over now. You were not going to stay in a place Bucky break into multiple times. Maybe you were not sure before, but the bottle of perfume was an obvious sign. It also meant that when a week ago you woke up and smell a man’s scent on your sheets you were not delirious. Bucky was there. He was laying beside you on your fucking bed.

How did it happen? Why didn’t you see his obsession growing with each day? You were his psychiatrist; you knew him better than anyone. How could he hide his infatuation with you for so long? Of course, you knew he had some feelings for you, but it was never that bad. You thought he would forget about you once he would be released. In the end, now you were not the only woman he saw around.

You kept stumbling upon his beefy figure more and more often. You realized Bucky was stalking you when after a month of his release you saw him watching your house from the forest. He was hiding behind the trees and bushes. It was a miracle you managed to see him at all – after 15 years he was still the Soldier, his skills remaining keen.

You tried talking to Dr. Strange. It wasn’t your first time being followed by your former patient, and police had always assisted you. But Barnes wasn’t like any of those stupid psychos who left tons of evidence behind them. Police had nothing to work with.

Well, you weren’t going to sit there and wait for Barnes to come and get you. You had no idea what was going on in his unstable mind, and you weren’t ready to take risks. You had already booked a flight to Austria tonight.

It was scary, thinking about wandering around a city you had never been, in a foreign country where you had neither relatives nor friends. But Barnes would have a hard time following you there, and that’s what mattered.

You threw a pack of salted cashew in the bag and returned to the bedroom to grab your phone from the chair. It wasn’t there. Although you dropped it just five minutes ago, your phone simply wasn’t there.

You were so fucked.

Next minute you were in the kitchen grabbing a knife, but a strong muscular arm knocked it out of your hand, and you felt Bucky’s musky scent. He stood behind your back, caging you with his bulky arms. You froze and held your breath. You knew you better obeyed the man instead of provoking him to become violent.

“And where were you going, honey?” His husky voice was enough to make you tremble. “It’s not nice to leave without saying goodbye, is it?”

“Please, Bucky.” You did your best to hide how frightened you were. “Stop.”

“No, honey.”

He leaned closer to you and buried his nose in your hair, inhaling its smell. His rough hands were already caressing your body through the clothes.

“You’re free to start a new life. You can find a good woman, have a family if you’d like.” Panic was rising in your chest. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“No, Bucky, it’s not.” You said in a calm voice. “It will only get you back behind the bars. Don’t throw away your life, please.”

“ _What life?_ ” He growled, turning you around harshly, and you almost fell on his chest, his arms holding you still. “I have no life. I should have never left my cell, you know this better than anyone else. I’m rotten. Damaged goods. I will never have the life I’ve always wanted. Do you know I have nightmares every fucking night again?”

“It’s because you don’t take your pills.” You carefully put your hands against Bucky’s chest. He tried manipulating you, you knew that. “When was the last time you had thioridazine?”

“Stay with me, and I’ll take whatever pills you want me to.” He grinned suddenly, cupping your face. 

Bucky’s strong athletic body emanated heat, and you were already sweating from both his closeness to you and an extreme agitation. Why did it take you so long to leave? You should have done it the first thing in the morning, just grab your documents and money and run to the car. Maybe then you had a chance. Unless Bucky had already been hiding inside your house…

“Why do you want to make a wrong choice again?” You felt his heart beating loudly with your palm against his chest. “You are given a chance to start over. If you want me to consult you still, I can figure something out. I can continue helping you, but you need to find your way. Don’t you think it’s good to meet new people, have friends, find a job, date a girl?”

“Who wants to deal with a psychopath like me?” He let out a chuckle, his expression darkening. “No one can handle me, doc. No one but you. Do you know I wanted to commit suicide before you showed up seven years ago? If not you, they’d already buried me.”

Before you opened your mouth to protest, he turned you around again and gently nudged you towards your bedroom. You broke out in cold sweat. If Bucky was able to outpower Rumlow, that beast of a man, he would have no problems forcing you to do whatever he pleased. It took three strong prison guards to bring someone like Bucky down. You were helpless.

“No one out there is good enough.” His breath was tickling your ear. “You’re the only one, can’t you see? Maybe I’m rotten to the core, but you still helped me. You made me better.”

You stopped in front of your bed, the white cotton sheets and blue blanket crumpled. You stormed off early in the morning once you saw a bottle of perfume on the nightstand and didn’t care to make your bed.

You needed to keep calm. As far as you could see, Bucky didn’t plan to murder you, not when you would accept him, that is. He obviously had a nice plan how to make you stay with him without police knowing, but as long as he kept you alive you still had a chance. You needed to play along.

“On the bed.” He let out a low growl, and you felt the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass.

Shivering, you took off your slippers and sat on the bed facing him. His erection was obvious; Bucky was breathing heavily, his pupils dilated. The next second he was pulling his black t-shirt over his head, and you saw his shredded body littered with scars. You saw one particularly long one on the side close to his waistline: this was the one Rumlow gave him when Bucky was protecting you during the riot. The man let out a quiet laugh when he saw your eyes focused on a nasty pink line.

“Why are you frightened, honey? I know you want a family too. You good-for-nothing ex wasn’t able to give it to you, but I can.” His hands landed on your bared shoulders, and you flinched a little. “Let’s get married, and I swear I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

“Bucky, relationships don’t work like this.” You whispered, withholding a cry when his hand pushed you down on the bed. 

“Don’t they?” The man smiled and cocked his head to the side, removing his black leather belt. “You do something for me, I do something for you. That’s what I learnt in prison.”

You dragged yourself back as quickly as you could, but your back was pressed into the wall once Bucky put his knee on your bed. There was nowhere to run.

“Don’t be scared, honey.” His sweet voice broke the silence, and he crawled to you, slowly caging you with his bodyweight. “Let’s make a deal. You marry me, you bear my child, and I will return to prison. I don’t care if they’ll give me twice more pills or make me a lethal injection as far as you take care of my kid. You’ll love my kid, won’t you? You’ll take care of them. You’ll make them a better person than I am.”

The more he spoke, the more feverishly he touched you, his left hand pinning your palms above your head. He traced his arm along your breast, ripping your shirt with so much force that its green buttons ended on the floor. You realized your cheeks were wet with tears when Bucky kissed you on the forehead and wiped your face with his other hand.

He wanted to have kids with you. Why? Why you? Why did he consider you a perfect mother? Why did he consider returning to prison? Why was he ready to trade his goddamn life for a chance of having a child? Why couldn’t he have a child with someone else and just keep living?

Oh, of course he couldn’t. Bucky loathed himself. It wasn’t uncommon for the patients with Cluster B personality disorders, and it was probably true he wanted to end his life since you saw his self-destructing behavior. In the end, even his effort to save your life back than in the prison might be some kind of a suicide attempt. 

And the reason he wanted you and no one else… Well, you were the one who had been taking care of him all these years. The only one to navigate him through his nightmares when everyone else gave up on him. He saw good in you. He wanted it for himself. He wanted to make sure his child would never be treated the way he was.

You cried out when Bucky suddenly forced his cock into you. It felt like he was ripping you apart – he was _huge_. Your eyes flooded with tears again, and he cooed at you softly, pressing his chapped lips to your burning face. You couldn’t even remember when was the last time you had sex since you broke up with your ex a year ago. Thankfully, Bucky gave you time to adjust. He kept whispering filth into your ears and stroking your naked thighs. When did he take off your jeans?..

He kissed the top of your head, playing with your hair, and moved his hips slightly. You hissed in pain, but then realized it was a bit better – the pleasure started building up slowly, and you squeezed your eyes shut. No, no, you were not disgusting, your body tried to cope the best way it could, nothing else, it was a perfectly normal reaction, you knew that. Then you felt Bucky licking up the shell of your ear and whined desperately.

“It’ll be ok.” He whispered and kissed your temple. “I’ll take you to a nice place, and we’ll be there all alone. Once I make sure you’re pregnant I’ll return to prison, I give you my word.”

You bit down on your lip to muffle the noise coming out of your mouth.

“If they keep me alive, I might become your patient again.” He sounded almost ecstatic, rutting deep into you. “I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll stuff my mouth with your pills. Please, just _stay with me_.”

Staring at the white ceiling, you bit your tongue so hard your mouth filled with blood. You’d survive this. You’d get him behind the bars again. 

You wouldn’t stay.


	2. One Of A Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skinny!Steve x Reader
> 
> The ones hunting your family knew nothing of a monster in human shape lurking behind your back. 

Steve was an odd kid. Well, technically, he wasn’t much of a kid - he had already turned 18 - but with his extremely skinny built he looked younger to you. You knew his mother fell very sick when she was pregnant with him, and it explained a lot about his physique. It wasn’t his physical health that troubled you, though.

He was really into this military stuff, secret operations, death traps, serial killer hunting, things that guys of his age were not often interested in. Not to this extent, at least. His room was full of war history books, documentaries, scary posters with roaring bears, his own drawings of knives, guns, grenades and things like that. Steve didn’t talk much, and sometimes he even preferred gestures to communicate with others. You thought that maybe his anger manifested itself in this way. You didn’t even want to imagine how severely Steve had been bullied at school before moving here. Thankfully, most of the time he was really sweet to you, smiling shyly, helping you out with the choirs and trying to adjust to living together. Your dad married his mother a month ago, and now you all moved into a new house, pretending to be an average happy family.

Except for Steve’s disturbing hobbies, it wasn’t that bad, actually. You were slowly getting accustomed to the presence of someone other than your father, having nice family dinners together, going to shop with your stepmom who was always treated you nicely, playing cards with Steve in the evenings… You could get used to it. One of the hardest things was trying to think of Steve as your younger brother because you just didn’t feel like it. You were growing closer and closer with each day, true, but to consider him your relative wasn’t that easy. Maybe you couldn’t accept him this way at all. Maybe him just being your friend would be enough.

The first day you moved into a new house your stepmother asked you to keep an eye on him when she wasn’t around. She said something about his health – he needed to take his meds every day – and pleaded you to forgive Steve if he would be rude to you. She asked you not to tell anything to your father. It was surprising, considering the fact you dad wasn’t really strict or unkind, but everyone had their fears, right? In the end, you meant the world to your him. She was afraid he would hardly tolerate her son’s bad attitude towards you.

Anyway, you knew your father wanted you to became closer to Steve, and you did the best you could. At the end of the month it was you bringing him his medication every evening, not his mom. You were wishing him goodnight and turning off the lights in his room as if you truly were his older sister, and he was more and more willing to spend time with you. As the time passed, Steve didn’t seem so scary to you anymore. He was just a poor kid mistreated by people.

It all changed when those men showed up in your house one morning. They were heavily armed, black balaclavas concealing their faces, their beefy figures advancing upon your father. The next moment he was laying dead in the hall. The blood gushing from the hole in his chest quickly covered the grey floor you had only washed yesterday.

Steve’s mother was the next one after a man asked her something and was not satisfied with her answer, apparently. You heard the gun firing in the kitchen, and you knew what had happened to her. But the only thing you did was staring at the floor covered in your father’s blood, your body frozen to the point you forgot how to breathe.

They were dead. They were dead, and you were all alone in the house with five murderers. The only reason why you were still alive was because they simply didn’t see you standing on the top of the stairs.

No, you were not alone. You had Steve. You needed to get him out of the house before these men caught you.

“Get the kids!” Somebody yelled from the kitchen, and you ran without thinking.

Steve’s room. Steve’s room. In the end of the corridor. To the left.

Somebody was already following you with such speed you could hardly outrun him. You didn’t dare to glance back, but you knew it was a large tall man with a knife or something like that in his hand instead of a gun because he didn’t shoot you outright. He would either kill or rape you in the next 10 seconds. Maybe he would kill you once the leader got whatever he wanted from you.

“STEVE!”

You jumped to the door and suddenly fell onto blue carpet in his room, Steve standing right in front of you with something in his hand. You blinked and heard the loud steps of a man behind you.

“Help me!”

Your head was not working properly, panic ruling over you now. Why did you ask him for help? What could tiny Steve do against a 6’5 feet tall armed man who was obviously not some rookie robber? It would take at least several policemen to bring him down, not a scared to death girl with shaking hands and a kid skinny as a rail.

Then you heard a weird bubbling sound somewhere behind your back and saw Steve’s black boots moving instantly. Why was he wearing his combat boots in the house? And, more importantly, did he just throw something at the man?

Crawling further to the opposite wall, you didn’t dare to turn around until you felt the boy’s gentle hand pulling you up with a strength you never expected from him. His sickly-sweet smile was now gone, one of his hands covered in blood and clenching a small knife, the other holding your arm. You looked at his unnaturally calm expression, all emotions wiped from his face.

“I will help.” He said quietly and moved to the door, punching the man’s legs to the side to close it.

Then you finally saw the intruder laying down on the floor and not moving. Did Steve knock him out? Did he throw the knife at him once he entered? The pool of blood under his face was growing so much you realized Steve must have cut his throat right after that.

There was no time for second thoughts when the boy motioned you to the open window. He got on the red roof first and helped you to come down, then jump right into the bushes. You were shaking feverishly, understanding absolutely nothing but following Steve to the forest without a word. At that moment he was godlike to you, your protector, your saviour, the one who had just saved your life. You didn’t ask where he got the knife or how he managed to kill that big guy. Nothing else mattered than your survival.

The next moment you were fully conscious the two of you were somewhere in the woods, Steve wandering around some garbage and fiddling with rusted metal and pieces of rope. He had bandaged your leg that you scratched badly while clawing your way through the bushes. Where did he get the bandages? You looked around and saw a first-aid kit on the ground near you. When did he?..

Now watching him you thought Steve was way too collected. His face betrayed no emotion when he placed a plank with long nails in the grass. Then he pulled the string somewhere close to the fallen tree, setting some kind of a trap. You could not comprehend what he was doing.

You reached down the pocket of your shorts instinctively, searching for anything that might help. Instead you found one of Steve’s white pill cases with his meds. You often carried them with you not to forget to give him a few every evening.

When he suddenly touched your arm you almost jumped, shivering and letting out a gurgling sound. The boy was standing in front of you and gazing at the pill case in your hand.

“Your… your meds.” You mumbled under your breath. “For the evening. You’ll be ok.”

He smiled, rubbing your shoulders with his unbearably hot hands dirtied with dry blood. For some reason Steve looked happy as if you two were not in the middle of the woods, chased by fi… four murderers. Why was he so calm? He heard the gun twice; he knew his mother was dead.

When you watched him as he took your hand again and pulled you forward, you saw him wearing his black jacket, t-shirt and tactical pants. Why? He didn’t plan to go anywhere this morning; it was Sunday. When did he get dressed? Did he do it when he heard the men coming? But it happened in the matter of two minutes maximum. Did he start gathering his things once he heard the first shot?..

“Steve.” You felt tears streaming down your face when you saw an old metal bear trap close to one of the multiple trails on the forest glade.

He pointed his finger to the other places around, and you saw snares and ropes everywhere. 

“Steve.” You repeated weakly, thinking of everything that happened. You were ready to cry. “They’re dead. Our p-parents… These people will kill us too.”

In a second, he let go of your arm and stepped closer to you, his hands now on the sides of your face. His hollow eyes stared at you sharply. Opening his mouth wide, Steve pressed the tip of his tongue to the roof that way you could see and then exhaled slowly. After that he closed his mouth and inhaled through the nose for a few times. You realized you were repeating after him – he was teaching you to control your breath. Steve was helping you to calm down.

You were breathing with him for a few minutes until you felt your heartbeat returning to normal.

“If you want my protection,” he said calmly, touching the lock of your hair, “I will protect you.”

You squeezed his hand in yours, staring him into the eyes. You only realized now something was very wrong with Steve. He acted nearly… inhuman. He wasn’t bothered by the death of his parents. He wasn’t frightened like any sane person would be in a situation like this. No, instead he planned how to get rid of those guys, setting death traps right before your eyes. He made them so thoroughly and so fast as if it weren’t his first time setting them. And where on Earth did he get a real bear trap?

Something was telling you he was far more dangerous than any of those men breaking into your house. You had never asked his mother what mental issues he had, right? You had never found out what his meds were for. Were they really just for helping him to calm down before going to bed? Why was his mother always keeping him in her sight? Why had his hobbies always involved depiction of extreme violence?

You bit on your lip and looked at Steve’s face. Whoever he might be, he was your only savior. So be it. If it was the only way to survive, to avenge your parents slaughtered like pigs, so be it. Whatever he would do, these people deserved it.

“I want it, Steve.” You whispered to him, gently rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.

He gave you one of his sweet smiles in return and showed you the safe path on a glade full of his traps, guiding you by the hand.


	3. Looking after you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve takes care of his little girl when she suffers from a headache.

You groaned and shifted uncomfortably on the bed, Steve hovering above you with a worried expression on his face. Your headache had been tearing you apart for the last hour, and it was not getting better even after you had your painkillers.

“Please, please turn off the lights.” You mumbled with your eyes shut, your arm covering your face.

He hurriedly got off the bed and went to the light switch close to the locked door – he was careful to never keep it open regardless whether he was inside with you or not. One time when he forgot you almost got out when you hit him badly with a lamp from the nightstand.

You let out a pained moan, and Steve turned off the lights in the very next second. He was watching you with concern, his brows furrowed – God, he didn’t want to bring you to the hospital since he wasn’t sure you can behave properly for him, but leaving you in such pain was hardly an option. He hated seeing you like this.

“It’ll get better, sweetheart.” Steve whispered gently and reached out for one of the compresses he brought to your room a minute ago. “Just wait a little bit. You can do it for me, can’t you, honey?”

You muttered something under your breath once he carefully swept away your hair from your face and put a piece of cool white fabric on your forehead. It was so much better when the light was not bothering your eyes anymore.

Knowing you need silence more than anything else, the man softly pulled a knitted pale pink blanket over you and sat close. You didn’t look at him, your arm still covering your eyes, but stopped moving erratically, nonetheless. Maybe the painkillers were finally kicking in. Steve was looking at you face intently.

“Do you want me to drive you to the hospital, sweetheart?” He said as quietly as he could not to make your headache worse, bending over and waiting patiently for your answer.

God, he didn’t want to drive you anywhere, watching you being taken cared of by people other than him, but he wanted you to be safe and sound. Your health mattered the most, even if he would have to wreck the whole hospital after your visit.

“No.” You whispered back, too weak to move, your head close to explode. “No.”

You missed his amazed expression with your eyes still closed, but Steve didn’t repeat his question. A part of him felt relieved, a part of him still worried. He wasn’t sure what else he was ought to do. The idea of giving you even more painkillers didn’t sound right to him. Distressed, Steve climbed the bed and laid down close to you, holding his breath. After five more minutes he changed the compress on your forehead to a cooler one. And then one more when some time had passed. In the end, he saw you sleeping soundly and gently took your arm out of your face to see whether you felt better. Apparently, the painkillers relieved at least some of your pain. Now you just needed to relax.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Steve tenderly stroked your arm with his big palm and brought himself closer to you, lowering his head on your pillow. Gently touching your neck with his nose, he closed his eyes and smiled. He took care of you. Maybe not as good as he was supposed to, but he was learning fast. He would find you a private doctor next time who could help to get you on track while Steve would take care of anything else. Steve would look after you. He would make sure to make you happy again.


	4. Wicked Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> necromancer!Bucky x Reader
> 
>  _Lord Barnes?_ Lord Barnes did not wear his hair long. Lord Barnes was astride his noble steed, clad in armor. He lived in a high castle and kept a robin redbreast in a cage. He cared little for its broken wings.

You paced back and forth across your chamber like a wild animal in its cage. Your body still hurt after your morning encounter with Lord Barnes, your thighs growing black and blue from the merciless grip of his fingers, but it did not stop you. The thought of laying in bed upon which he claimed you many times had not crossed your mind.

 _Lord_ Barnes. You still barely held your tongue every time you heard it. Lord Barnes. A lowly peasant, a man who was born in filth and would die there regardless of the new king’s favour, had been granted with the lands and people of your father for betraying him. James Barnes had aided Lord Rogers to overthrow King Alexander and reclaim his throne for everything your father possessed in return. That included you, his one and only heir after an unfortunate death of your older brother a year ago.

You were told to be grateful. Instead of slaughtering you like sheep alongside your father Lord Barnes granted you a privilege to become his betrothed. You could retain your title and your place; you could take care of your people once again. This is what you were told constantly by your handmaidens to ease the pain, but you knew what your place would be once you marry the man you saw in your nightmares. You would be the one who warmed his bed. The one who whored herself for her right to live.

You already did all of it, didn’t you? James Barnes had bedded you long before the ceremony. What difference did it make for someone as lowly as him? He cared little for traditions, rules and feelings of others. He was an animal. He needed to be chained instead of ruling over the lands of your father.

You groaned at the pain in your abused core. How did it happen? How had he become the one above you? How could he be the one so close to Steve Rogers, a man of noble blood? When did he turn from your faithful guard to a wicked traitor? How dare was he to claim you, the one he swore to protect?

Oh, you were desperate to the point of believing the matrons, the ones who blamed Barnes’ witchcraft for his success. Maybe it was all true. Maybe those odd words he kept whispering into your ears when you were in bed were his magic spells.

You laughed and reached for your little silver-coated hand mirror you spotted on the vanity, looking at your hollow eyes and the dark circles below them. Your young face seemed to age much faster since the day your father was murdered. Suddenly, a peculiar thought crossed your mind, and you threw the mirror to the stone floor, watching it shutter into pieces. Lod Barnes had denied you even your letter-knife, apparently afraid that one night you might slit his throat, but he failed to remember not only daggers had sharp edges. You picked up one of the shards with your shaking hands and felt hot tears streaming down your face. The thought of taking your own life had always been there, at the back of your mind, but it was the first time you had a chance to do so. 

How did you have to proceed? The piece was to small to stab yourself in the chest with it. You had to bring the shard to your neck…

As your eyes fell to the windows, you laughed hysterically again. Oh no, why would you torment yourself with a shard? It was reprehensible of a lady of your position. Why wouldn’t you escape your cruel fate through the window of your own chamber?

You call out to one of your handmaidens and demanded to open it, spinning around yourself and watching the black fabric of your mourning dress fly in the air. The handmaiden clasped her hand over her mouth – she saw her lady had reaching the very end, losing both her dignity and her mind, tortured by the beast who called himself their Lord. But the girl said nothing, opening those heavy shutters of wood and metal and letting the chilling wind blow into your chamber. You kissed her rosy cheek and pushed her to the door with your hands on her tender back, still laughing at yourself for your foolishness. Why didn’t you think of it earlier? Why didn’t you open that window before Barnes had stormed into your chamber for the first time?

Once the handmaiden closed the wooden doors behind herself, you moved your grey foot stool to the wall and climbed to the windowsill. The black frame was unbearably small, but you still managed to squeeze through it, clamping the stone walls, and looked at the magnificent forest surrounding your ancestral castle. Your thought of your colours that were once hoisted over it, a fearsome Hydra on black and red banner. Now there was a blue shield with a star on it, a banner Lord Barnes had raised himself.

You were not to be tormented any longer. If no one came to your aid, you would save yourself with your own hands.

It took just one step into the darkness, reaching out to the Ether. You felt insufferable fear and pain enveloping you, but your eyes closed in mere seconds as your body reached the ground with a terrifying sound. You could not hear it, though. You had finally escaped.

*** 

The wind was whispering his long forgotten tales of how the world had emerged from the void into your ears as you bathed in the fog along your laughing sisters, their gentle hands pulling you towards them. Soon all of you jumped, pressing your bare feet against the ground, and flew up into the air above the dense forest. Nearly brushing the tops of the giant pines with your feet, you floated further away from centuries-old trees beneath you, and soon you saw the moonlit meadow, your sisters’ golden laughter breaking the silence of the night again.

You were invisible, free as air, dizzy with speed. No one ruled over you, the wind always there shielding you from dangers, your tender-hearted sisters never leaving you alone. Sometimes you lived in the storm clouds high up in the sky, sometimes you slept deep down the forest lakes. You were waking the sleeping pine forests with your screech; you lured cruel men into the swamps and drown them there; you lead lost peasant children out of the woods back to their mothers. You felt no fatigue. You had long forgotten both hunger and thirst. Light as a cloud, you lived among your gracious sisters and never knew sorrow.

Then you heard yourself taking a deep breath. Your eyes snapped open.

He was kneeling before you, his dark matted hair grown too long, his face deathly pale as he kept whispering the words you did not hear. He abandoned his blood-stained armor, wrapping himself in a black leather instead; his left hand was enveloped in silver.

_Venite ad me._

You gazed upon his shoulders, now almost twice as broad as you had remembered them, and then saw the candles forming a star around your white stony legs. The ground was marked with blood and black symbols you did not recognize. Lord Barnes kept whispering the words that brought you a slight headache.

 _Lord Barnes?_ Lord Barnes did not wear his hair long. Lord Barnes was astride his noble steed, clad in armor. He lived in a high castle and kept a robin redbreast in a cage. He cared little for its broken wings.

_Venite ad me._

Then you heard angry muffled voices, women screaming and cursing distantly, pleading you to listen.

You were the bird. You were the one he trapped inside the castle.

You took a loud breath again, your eyes wandering frantically all around you. The cries of your beloved sisters rang in your no longer deaf ears as you searched for them in the dark but failed to see their silhouettes. You knew they were there all around you, yet their hands could not reach yours anymore. Your spirit was trapped inside the Materia.

When you could move your head, you glanced down your form and found your figure completely white with a few pink veins running across. He chose a marble for you knew body. He charmed it; he made it unbreakable. He knew it would not burn in flames. He knew the wind would no longer take you.

_Venite ad me._

His voice cut through the silence, and you saw tears staining his dirty face. The longer he spoke, the faster your marbled flesh was gaining colors, turning human again. He was bringing you back from the dead. He said the sacred words banished by warlocks centuries ago. He was bringing you back to lock you in the chamber again and keep you to himself, abuse you and breed you as his lawful wife.

“Sisters,” your weak voice mingled with his whisper. “Save me, sisters.”

Their enraged cries were becoming more and more quiet with each passing second while Barnes’ voice sounded louder.

“Take me away, sisters.” You pleaded, feeling human flesh covering your marbled insides, the coldness of the night descending upon your naked body. “Take me away before it’s too late.”

He was almost shouting now as he rose to his feet, his arms bleeding, a red star carved into his back beneath the black leather. Those invisible furies could no longer snatch you away from him as your soul was captured inside the stone he brought from across the ocean and five seas. His beloved wife, the one he had been dreaming of all those years, the one he treated with contempt instead of dignity, the one he swore to protect once and failed to fulfil his oath.

When he found your broken body that had bled white on the forest ground, he put it inside the coffin and brought it to the castle chapel. In spite of priest’s protests, he held the marriage ceremony the same day, claiming your rotten corps as his wife. It took a month before Lord Rogers and his allies barged into the castle and found barely alive Barnes laying on the stone floor while what was left of your body rested on his bed amid silk dresses and gemstones. They said the King almost fainted at the sight of it.

_Venite ad me._

Barnes spent all those years apart from you in agony, curving your name on his arms and the backs of his prisoners. Before he found the warlock King Alexander had been keeping in a prison deep in the ground in the southern lands of the kingdom, every day of his useless life was a constant torture, his pain just a subtle reminder of what he had lost.

“Come back to me, my betrothed.” He whispered to you, his vision blurred, mind hazy from a blood loss. “I’ve sacrificed the lives of all your enemies to bring you back.”

Your cries echoed across the forest.

“Come back to me, sweetheart. I’ve burnt King’s body as he had burnt yours.”

Your marbled figure no longer resembled a cold stone as warm flesh enwrapped every part of it, and you collapsed to the ground marked with blood. You could not hear the voices of your sisters anymore, only the ragged breath of a necromancer who crawled to you, his hands covered in ashes. As you stared at the stars above you, thinking of your home in the storm clouds where your sisters wept over you, the man pressed his dirty face to yours, and you felt his hot tears falling on your cheeks.


	5. Rise and Fall chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deity!Steve x Reader
> 
> “Have I not spoilt you enough with my gifts, my beloved ward?”

Once you had carefully placed your heavy basket to the ground, you gazed upon the wooden altar in front of you and smiled at the sight of lighted candles – they had never blown out regardless of how strong the wind was. Your benevolent Deity used his power to guide his flock to the light, as elders said to you. 

Whispering a short prayer to let him know you had come, you quickly reached for a jar of fresh milk and a small pot of honey, putting them directly on the altar and bowing your head with respect and adoration. Your faith was never shaken, and it remained the foundation of your life. Celestial Captain, your divine guardian, had always been the one you came to for an advice or a blessing.

The day you were born he had chosen you to be one of his wards. Your parents were told it was highly unusual – all girls were guarded by female deities with a few exceptions, you being one of them, while boys belonged to male deities. As elders told you, it was Natalia of Sacred Northern Lands who was supposed to take you under her wing, but Captain had demanded you for a reason no one had ever known.

You were blessed to see him in his human form several times, something every other ward prayed for constantly. You knew Steve Rogers had golden hair shining bright like the sun itself; his strong muscular figure had been seared permanently in your memory. But most of all you remembered his light blue eyes, the same color as the sky where he had wandered since the beginning of time. You saw his eyes in your dreams, knowing he had always been watching you to keep you safe, and you whispered his name like a prayer.

He saved you from drowning in a lake when you were five. He blessed you with good health when the deadly plague came to your village, and you remained stronger than most of your men till this day. When you asked him to aid you in your first hunt, he brought you a bow and arrows, holy runes covering red wood. The only reason you were allowed to join men in hunt was entirely because Captain himself had granted you his permission. And once the hunting gone wrong in one of those days, he stabbed the bear chasing you with his sword.

He had always been there, listening to your prayers. Today you came to ask for his advice again when one of the priests had urged you: your parents were arranging your marriage to one of hunters from the neighboring village. You had never met him before and knew little of him except that he belonged to a decent family and was very gifted. You were frightened to become his wife. What if he would lock you in his house and forbid to leave as many men often did with their wives? You had grown too freedom-loving, exploring the forests, running with a wind, and sleeping in the shades of mighty oak trees. Dancing with fairy folk at night on a little forest clearing and giving your prayers every morning when the sky was coloured in shades of blue, pink, purple, and red, you were the true ward of Celestial Captain. You did not deserve to be locked away from everything you loved.

You saw the light of the candles dying, and then the flames ignited again – your divine guardian had arrived, answering your prayers. You saw his huge shadow falling on the altar and your own figure.

The next moment a heavy red cape landed on your shoulders, and you raised your head, looking in the charming face of your Deity, his brows furrowed. Was he angry at you for coming to him? Why did he grant you a cape? The red cape was given to a woman by her betrothed on the night before the ceremony. Did Captain wanted to give you a wedding gift?

“The One Above Us All.” You whispered and beheld in awe, in respect, in fear. Now you saw your guardian was enraged.

It was the first time when you saw him in such state, his jaw tensed, his eyes sliding up and down your body. You should have not prayed to him this night. You had to seek advice of Lady Wanda, a deity of love and fertility, for it was her domain.

“I humbly beg for your forgiveness.” You muttered in horror and watched him with wide eyes.

“Silence.” He demanded, and you kept your mouth shut when he lifted you from the ground with his large hands and turned you so you could face his bulky figure properly. Once you were standing in front of him with his cape on your shoulders, frozen and frightened, he spoke again. “Have I not been kind to you, my dear?”

“You have always been, Divine One.” You whispered immediately, afraid to raise your voice even a little.

“Have I not answered your pleas, apple of my eye?”

“You have always done, O Great Redeemer.”

“Have I not spoilt you enough with my gifts, my beloved ward?”

“You have always done, Holder of my Fate.”

You fell silent, horrified of what might come when Celestial Captain put his hot callous hands on your trembling shoulders. What had you done? Had you forgotten he was neither your friend nor your mentor to address him on such a lowly issue? If he were to abandon his foolish ward, it would be entirely your fault.

But instead of giving you a severe reprimand the Deity close the small distance between you, and you felt his unbearably hot lips on your forehead. He set his hand on the side of your face so gently it caught you off-guard.

“No one will wed you but me.” He murmured softly into your ear. “I have chosen you, I have been watching you grow, I kept the lock of your hair in a locket that I carried with me at all times all these years.”

You hold your breath, unsure of what you heard, his voice ringing in the silence of the night. It could not be true. His interest could not be genuine.

“You are to be mine and no one else. Anyone to lay claim on you will be obliterated at once.”

You could not move as he gazed upon you, his hands holding your arms almost painfully. You could have though he was toying with you, but your divine guardian would never lower his own dignity. He was above all this. He was perturbed yet ultimately merciful. But how could his words be true? How could a mere mortal become a wife of the Sky Deity? He had taken no woman ever before, even though many female deities like divine Natalia had offered themselves to him.

All of your thoughts faded into background noise once you felt his burning lips on yours, his cape turning around your body like a shroud. You felt him lifting you into the air as your feet left the ground and involuntarily clutched Captain’s cloak from fear. Where was he taking you? What would become of you by morning if he were to wed to you? Suddenly you realized you might never return and see the faces of your parents ever again.

“My Lord, I…”

“Do not speak before giving your vows, my little lovebird.” He hummed, and his eyes flared a glowing gold. “Thereupon, I will have an eternity to listen to your lovely voice.”

Before you could protest, he whispered a few words in a language foreign to you, and then your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier with every passing second. With your fading strength, barely looking at the Captain and seeing the manic look in his eyes, you struggled to remain conscious but lost to the fatigue taking over your body. Unable to defeat the darkness, you let it consume you, and the sky above your head turned black.


	6. Rise and Fall chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deity!Steve x Reader
> 
> “Have I not spoilt you enough with my gifts, my beloved ward?”

Feeling deeply embarrassed and ashamed of your naked body, you quickly slipped in a marble balneae filled with warm milk and a mix of oils you could not recognize. It smelled incredibly, but your fear of exposing your body to strangers – even if they were only celestial nymphs who helped you to bath – made you cover yourself in humiliation. It was never meant to happen that way. You were not supposed to become the wife of a deity, less likely your divine guardian, The One Who Soared Through the Sky.

You had given your vows not so long ago, dressed in a white loose-fitting silk shirt made by Queen Virginia’s best weavers and a skirt so long its hem was carried by two nymphs. Embroidered with pearls and golden threads, they felt light as air on your skin while Captain’s red cape was heavy as iron. Nymphs colored your forehead and the back of your hands in golden yellow, your feet crimson as if they bled. You murmured the sacred words in front of Holy Vision who sanctified your union with the Sky Deity. It felt like a dream. Like a nightmare you were frightened to awake from.

“No, please.” You plead the nymphs who had already taken both your arms in their hands and started washing them, taking away the color that quickly dissolved in milky waters.

They were deaf to your entreaties, but you knew you could hardly blame them. Bound by their own vows, they followed commands of the deities who stand high above them all.

How could it happen? How a mere mortal had become the wife of Celestial Captain? In your village it was considered a great offense to the guardians to even mention your desire to be wed by a deity. It was… incomprehensible. Unimaginable. False. You simply could not understand why no one have ever heard of you being the betrothed of Divine One. Was it because he did not want you to be corrupted by priests with their admiration and attempts to please the deity’s bride? It was the only reason you could think of.

When you snapped out of your thoughts, the nymphs had already finished cleaning your arms, back and chest, and now they poured warm milk on the locks of your hair. You closed your eyes as you felt the fluids streaming down your face. Regardless of whether you wanted or not, you had become the wife of your divine guardian. Although you found the ceremony itself rather short, tomorrow deities would enter the Halls of Heaven again to hold the celebration as Lady Wanda had assured you. In your village the celebration always started after the wedding ceremony, but you were only lowly mortals. You had no right to judge.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my love?”

His voice of thunder made you flinch, and you immediately sank into the milky waters to prevent him from seeing your naked form. You acted childish, immature, foolish in front of you own husband, but you could not help it.

“Yes, Great One.” You replied and bowed your head, afraid of turning to him fully as you heard him undressing, his cloak falling to the marble floor.

Why was he here? Weren’t you supposed to bath by yourself before your wedding night? Lady Wanda had not stated otherwise, but you could not protest openly against him, knowing your place too well.

“Are you not willing to look at your lawfully wedded husband?” Captain did not sound pleased, and you held your breath, bowing even deeper and staring into milky waters.

“Forgive me, my Lord, for I have never seen a man in a state of nature.” You sounded scared, your voice trembling. You hoped he would forgive you for your silliness.

Captain hummed, content, and you heard the splash of water as his massive body slipped inside the balneae. He was so immensely big you felt the waves coming from him and washing over your shaking figure.

“Raise your head, my betrothed.” Steve smiled at you and waived his hand once you looked at him, completely naked but covered by milk below the waistline. “Come closer.”

You gulped and moved slowly towards him, your hands on your chest, your hair soaked with creamy liquid, droplets of golden color still on your flushed face. It was utterly humiliating, yet you hardly wanted to meet Captain’s wrath. You stopped at arm’s length, hoping he would be satisfied. The next moment he was embracing you, his hands pulling you closer and forcing you to put your head on his broad chest. You bit down on your lower lip, your heartbeat erratic, head pounding.

You could feel his muscular thighs touching yours and realized something hard was poking at your tummy.

… Heavens, no. He was aroused. He wanted to take you like all those lowly mortal men claimed their women. Suddenly, you felt terrible fear consuming you and tried to evade guardian’s touch, but his grip became stronger once he saw your pained expression.

“What is it that you’re afraid of, my little bird?” The Deity still smiled at you as if he were to laugh at your pathetic attempt to hide from him. “Have you not heard what happens on the wedding night?”

“I have, my Lord.” You were shaking like a leaf in his arms, keeping your head low again and praying to make him release you from his grip. “But I was not prepared t-to…”

You could not continue your thought, his hot hands travelling down your body under the water, and you tried to push him back.

“To what?” He asked you impatiently as his gazed upon you, his eyes getting darker with each passing second with you refusing to let him touch you. “I demand you to speak.”

“To be wed so soon, Your Eminence.” You mumbled and immediately realized you were ought to say anything but this.

His light blue eyes were clouded with anger while one of his arms grabbed the back of your neck and squeezed it painfully until you yelped and slammed your hands against his broad shoulders. You were like a kitten in tiger’s paws, choking for air.

“Soon?” Pain blossomed in your thigh once his hand clenched it, his nails clawing at your sensitive skin and making your eyes water. “You would have given yourself to that scum if I were not to interfere, little girl. You were ready to throw yourself at that mongrel, weren’t you?!”

“N-no, m-“

“Do not speak to me, sweetheart.”

You desperately wanted to scream and push him away, his hardness still rubbing against your skin, sliding beneath your delicate folds, but found your voice completely gone as you opened your mouth like a fish out of water. You could not utter a single word regardless how much your tried, watching your guardian in pure horror. No, he was above them all, he would not force you like those mortal men did, he had dignity like no one else, he…

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you?” Steve growled lowly, and the bright light illuminating the chamber out of clouds became dull and somewhat misty. “Seeing you day by day, watching you flourish, turn from a girl to a grown woman yet still giving you time to run around in the woods and dance obscenely with those shameless half-naked fairies. You’ve been bleeding for many years, yet I have not lay a finger on you.”

Deeply ashamed at his words, you still struggled to get away but only made Captain get between your legs and lay his hand on your bare chest.

“I own you. All of you.” His hand on the back of your neck squeezed it again, and Steve cooed softly at you, crying from humiliation and pain. “I’ve chosen you before you were even born. I gave you my protection, my blessing, and you took them without a single protest, didn’t you? So, don’t you dare to say I haven’t waited long enough before claiming what’s rightfully mine.”

He leaned in and gently stroked your already hard nipples, watching your mouth move with no sounds coming from it with an odd adoration on his face.

“Shh, my dear. Just love me, be grateful for everything I’ve done for you, and do as I say.” As he decided you had enough, your face already turned red with tears streaming down your cheeks, your divine guardian let go of your neck and embraced you instead. “Be good for me, little bird, and you’ll be surprised how much more I can do for you.”

You did not protest, silently nodding your head.

The only thing you wanted him to do was to forget you had ever existed.


	7. He'll do it for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky x Reader
> 
> You shouldn't have run from him.

“How do you feel, sweetheart?”

Moving inside your tiny cage was nearly impossible; you shifted slightly to meet Bucky’s steely-eyed gaze, his right arm clenching a metal bar to your left.

“Not good.” You exhaled quietly and moved your legs to change your position a bit.

“And why is that?” His cold blue eyes pierced you. He was still angered.

“Because I wasn’t a good girl for you.”

No, you weren’t. You tried to escape. You thought Bucky was asleep when you reached for the keys in the pocket of his black jeans. If only you were a bit quieter, cleverer, and more skillful, maybe you had a chance to run away, but you were too impulsive to wait for another chance. You used the first one you got just as Bucky thought you would. Of course, he caught you in a matter of seconds and dragged you back into the basement.

“That’s right, sweetheart.”

This dog’s cage was too small to straighten your legs, let alone lay down completely. You didn’t now how much time had passed, but your body ached as if Bucky beat you with his metal fist. There was no food, only one small bottle of water, now empty, that you held in your arms. It was a torture you deserved for trying to leave him.

“Please. It hurts. It hurts so much.” You had no strength left and just moved so close to the bars you could feel his breath on your skin. “Please, let me out.”

“You sure you’ll behave?”

“I will. I promise.”

Bucky smirked, reaching past the bars to stroke your cheek with his metal fingers. You shivered from an unpleasant feeling on your skin, but didn’t try to avoid his touch, lowering you gaze and missing his mesmerized expression. He fucking loved it when you admitted defeat. You were a stubborn one – he admired your pathetic struggling – and you needed to learn to submit to him, someone so much stronger and wiser than you were. If any real bad guy planned to kidnap you, how were you going to escape? Just using your first chance and jumping into the fire? No, it wouldn’t do. If you couldn’t protect yourself, you needed to listen to the one who could do it for you.

“Good.” He rose to his feet and slowly moved to the other side of the cage, the sound of his steps cutting down on the heavy silence. “I believe you, love. But trick me one more time and you’ll run to this cage and lock the door yourself.”

He put the key into the keyhole, and in a second the door opened with an annoying sound. You stretched your legs immediately and let out a quiet cry. God, it hurt. It hurt so much you could barely move by yourself.

Suddenly feeling guilty, Bucky hovered over the cage and carefully pulled you by the legs to help you out. Yes, you did something stupid, but it was your first time. You simply needed to be taught how to behave. He didn’t want you to suffer, he wanted you to learn. In the end, you were the only human being he truly cared for, aside from Steve.

As Bucky held you in his arms lovingly, he headed upstairs, watching you moan from exhaustion and pain.

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s over.” He whispered tenderly in your ear. “Let’s have a bath. I’ll give you a massage to ease your aching muscles.”

You nodded and kept your eyes shut from the pain in your entire body. You would do whatever it takes not to return to that cage.


	8. Sinking under chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> detective!Steve x Reader
> 
> You are suspected of a murder you did not commit. Steve Rogers, a detective employed by the mother of a victim, makes your life even more pitiful than it already is.

God, he was there. That detective was following you again, his bulky figure hiding beside supermarket shelves. He was becoming a fundamental part of your life once your insane abusive neighbor was murdered. Of course, his mother thought you were the one accountable for his death since you rejected his advances multiple times, not his shady friends, some of them having a long list of criminal records.

But the sleuths she hired didn’t care, you thought. If they were payed to follow you around, they would do that without any regret. One of them, a strikingly handsome man with blond hair and deep blue eyes, was more eager to accompany you wherever you went. To make it worse, you figured out that Steve Rogers, that was his name, had a very close relationship with Clint Barton, the chief of police of your town. If the police would not be able to find a real murderer, maybe those detectives could make you a scapegoat. 

You trembled thinking of that and wiped off the tears shimmering in your eyes. All this investigation took a heavy toll on your mental health: constant checkups, long tiring conversations with the police detectives, constant threats coming from that deranged woman who blamed your for the death of her “little boy”, and your face on the newspapers were making your life a living Hell.

God, why? What have you done? Told this bastard who couldn’t keep his arms to himself to fuck off? Would it be better if you’d just let him have his way with you? Maybe then this disgusting old lady would be happy.

No, you couldn’t take any more of this. You did nothing wrong. You were the victim, not the perpetrator! You did not deserve to be hunted down like an animal!

Wiping the tears again and again, you just stormed off to the shelves where that detective was hiding, thinking you didn’t see. Well, you’d stop by to tell him he was doing a pretty shitty job.

But when you saw his surprised face, neither hatred nor hostility in his expression, you could not utter a single word. He was standing in front of you in his black t-shirt and jeans like a guy who had just run to the store for some cola, not to harass you or make you feel guilty over a crime you did not commit. When you realized you were shaking and crying in a full voice like a madwoman, Steve was already taking you outside, his strong arms pressing your head to his chest as if he tried shielding you from prying eyes.

He took you to his car parked nearby and wrapped you in his jacket, holding your hands in his huge warm palms and saying to you something to calm you down. You couldn’t quite catch his words, crying in the white handkerchief Steve gave you. By the time you stopped whining he was already driving you somewhere.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked you apologetically, his voice full of concern.

“I am.” You said and stared blankly out the window. “Thank you. I’d be much better if you’d stop following me around, though.”

“I’m sorry, madam, but this is my job.” He let out a loud sigh. “Believe me, I have no intention to harm you in any way. But I have to do what I’m told.”

“So, what does this old hag tell you to do?” Smiling bitterly, you looked at his wet handkerchief in your hands and clenched your fist. “I know she wants to see me in jail. Beheaded would be a better option, but I don’t think it’s legal.”

He looked at you with both pity and regret. Once Steve reached out to you to gently stroke your knee you flinched, but then only pressed a piece of white fabric to your face one more time. He just tried to calm you down. Maybe he wasn’t as dreadful as you imagined; Steve was simply doing his job.

“Listen, I’d be honest with you.” His hand had shifted up a bit. “You’re number one suspect. You have a good motive, no alibi for the time of his death, and there’s a witness saying you were seen close to this guy’s house half an hour before he died.”

You let out a dark chuckle. Of course, they’d blame you, a girl who had no one to protect her, no money to have a good lawyer even. Would they plant some evidence to frame you? It wouldn’t be too hard, you realized, since most of the time you were out of the house and anyone could come and hide, say, a murder weapon there.

“But it doesn’t mean you’ll end up in jail.” Steve squeezed your knee gently and suddenly smiled to you like he was some sort of prince coming to your rescue. “I don’t believe you did it. I know this piece of shit was forcing you to sleep with him, and I admire you rebuffed him. I think it was very brave of you.”

You got silent for a minute, staring at the man with your brows snapped together. Did he say he admired you? For real? He wasn’t trying to make your life more miserable, was he? Did Steve really mean it?

His warm sympathetic smile made your eyes swam with tears again, and you hided your face in his handkerchief.

“Thank you.” You murmured quietly through the fabric and then took it away from your eyes. “I… It really means a lot to me…”

You exhaled loudly, covering your face with your other arm. It was really nice of him to say that, yet it’s not like the situation got any better for you.

”But it still doesn’t change the fact they’ll probably plead me guilty. I know I’m a scapegoat. No one dare to help someone who can’t give anything in return.”

“Wait, wait, slow down a bit.” His blue eyes flickered with interest and some sort of emotion you could not recognize. “I didn’t say anything about that. I know you think I’m on the other side, but maybe I could help you to prove you didn’t commit this murder.”

Confused and somewhat disoriented from his sudden confession you stared at him dumbfoundedly, your hands clenching the handkerchief so hard they started to get numb. Now you had a million questions going through your head. Help you? Why? His job was to do the opposite. What could he possibly gain from helping you? You had no money, no useful links, nothing Steve might had possibly need. Yet he was sitting there and smiling widely at you, his hand on your knee, his grip becoming a bit tighter.

“B-but why would you do that for me?” You gaped, suddenly feeling like you were better to return home right now. “This woman is paying you some good money. I’m penniless.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” Steve’s affectionate expression turned darker, and he smirked. “We’ll figure something out.”

Then when you wanted to ask him to stop the car, you realized you had no idea where the two of you were heading. 

You were driving somewhere outside the town for good ten minutes already.


	9. Sinking under chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> detective!Steve x Reader
> 
> You are suspected of a murder you did not commit. Steve Rogers, a detective employed by the mother of a victim, makes your life even more pitiful than it already is.

You were shaking like a leaf, your hands trembling so badly you couldn’t hold your phone, and Steve quickly put it in the pocket of his formal black pants. He was hugging you close, your head on his chest again like when you had encountered him in a supermarket half a year ago. You were leaving the courtroom. You were not the defendant. You were asked to participate in the trial as a witness.

“You’re a fucking slut!” A woman’s high-pitched voice almost made you deaf. “I KNOW IT WAS YOU! IT WAS YOU! YOU! I’LL SUE YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

Steve fastened his pace, and the two of you were pretty much running away to the exit, rushing before the crowd would come out of the room. The murderer had been found, and they proved he was guilty for your neighbor’s death, not you. It took them long six months before the judge stated that the best friend of the victim was found guilty as there was more than enough evidence to support his charge. 

Six months. Six months of constant fear for your own life, barely moving outside of your house, being scared to touch your phone to see hate messages from the family of that dead bastard, taking more pills than you had your entire life. Six months of being continuously bullied and followed around. You could hardly count how many times you wanted to jump off the bridge or take too many pills at once.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, darling.” Steve easily pushed through the line of reporters with their microphones, recorders, and cameras. “We’re close, hold on to me.”

All other voices blended into incomprehensible noise: people asking you thousands of questions, someone still yelling from the back, and policemen demanding everyone to keep out the way. You saw nothing, moving fast with Steve to his car. He was your shield; the one who kept protecting you at all costs.

When he found out about hate mails, he simply took your SIM card and gave you a new one with just his name in the list of contacts. When he saw his own employer coming over to your house to harass you with her accusations, he found a cheap apartment in the outskirts of the town and helped you to relocate fast. Steve had been helping with the investigation, tracking every other suspect down and telling you every significant detail he wanted you to know. He followed you too, of course, to pretend he was doing his job and avoid any suspicion. No one needed to know the nature of your relationship.

What was it, anyway? First couple of months it was hard to tell. You felt like he was simply using you to satisfy his own needs, though Steve was a considerate lover to an extent. He could fuck you literally anywhere, including the back of his own car. He enjoyed making a mess out of you, your makeup smeared and hair wild, and sometimes it was either driving you mad or making you frightened. But then he was really great at aftercare, getting very affectionate. He could help you to wipe your face and adjust your clothes carefully, and if you were home he would bring you to the shower and wash your hair so tenderly it could make you cry.

Nonetheless, it felt rather strange he was ready to trade sex for protecting you from the accusations of his employer. You couldn’t understand why he went through all this hassle just for a chance to fuck some girl. With his angelic appearance women would probably line up to get into his bed.

You had finally landed on the car seat, Steve on your left already turned on the engine and moved before you were approached by a few reporters who kept following you.

“You’re safe.” He said softly, turning his head to you and curling his lips in a heartwarming smile. “We’ve won, baby. Fuck all these scumbags, we’re done with this shit.”

You burst into tears with your hands still trembling, and Steve reached out to grab your palm. Forcing yourself to smile back at him, you wiped your face with your other hand. You were lucky he was with you.

“T-thank you, Steve.” You murmured quietly as if you still couldn’t believe it’s over. “Thank for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Come on, darling. I only did what I thought was right.” His smile grew wider at your appreciation of his efforts, and he rubbed your hand. “You can’t imagine how happy I am we’re through this goddamn investigation. It calls for a celebration, don’t you think? I want some champagne and oysters.”

You laughed through tears, shaking your head. Steve had one quality you were always jealous of – he was optimistic. Even at the worst times, he was able to keep his head high and pull himself together. Then he helped you to get through with your issues too. Of course, he demanded to listen to him, to follow the rules he set for you – _don’t mess with other men, don’t go where I can’t follow, don’t speak to police unless I instruct you to, don’t leave without telling me first_ – but it was a small price to pay for the protection he offered.

“Now we don’t have to hide anymore.” Steve turned the car, and you saw he was bringing you to his house. Naturally, celebrating there would be better than in your half-empty apartment since Steve’s place was more comfortable and cozier.

“Do you mean I can finally return to my house?” You thought of the grass on your backyard that probably grew higher than your pretty red fence.

“What?” He sounded surprised. “Why would you want to come back there, right next to the house where that piece of shit died?”

“I can’t keep living in the apartment. I’m very thankful to you, it really became my hideout, but I have my own place.”

“No, baby, come on. Friends of that guy still live in the neighborhood. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He brought your hand to his face and left a tender kiss on your knuckles, bringing you to tears again. “You can live with me now before I find a better place for us somewhere else.”

You gaped at him openly and heard your heart pounding in your head. Did he just offered you to live together with him? Was he so scared those men would hurt you for real? Or did it had to do something with your relationship? Wait, no, it couldn’t be. Maybe Steve liked to cuddle and spent some evenings together as if he pretended to be your boyfriend, but you never took it seriously. There was no reason to.

“You mean… you want to live together? Like a couple?”

“Well, yeah?” He flashed his beautiful smile, and you held your breath. “We can start like a couple if you need more time.”

What’s _that_ suppose to mean?

“Steve, I don’t understand anything.” You told him honestly.

“We don’t have to pretend like we’re strangers, darling, since that old bitch can’t do anything anymore. Honestly, I’m tired of dating secretly, aren’t you too? All this precautions, living in different places so that no one knew, hiding from the windows. It was exhausting.”

Although you could agree it was really unnerving, you still didn’t understand why he called it a secret dating. Wasn’t it just… sex?

“Now we can take our relationship to the next level.” Steve was delighted, a bit too exited maybe, and then whistled, turning the car again – you were already in his neighborhood.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything and just kept staring at the man, taken aback by his words. Apparently, you had been missing something very important all these months. But you could swear you had never talked about anything like that before. You didn’t even remember discussing your feelings for each other much.

Obviously, Steve wasn’t happy with your silence, peeping into your absent eyes. He frowned with annoyance: usually you were much more responsive than now, always listening to what he had said.

“What is it, baby?” He asked you, his voice tight. “Don’t you want it?”

You awakened from your stupor and grasped the fabric of your dark blue skirt.

“No, it’s not that… it’s just…” You mumbled, unsure of what to say and feeling a bit scared of his displeasure with you. “We just never talked about it. I thought… I thought you didn’t want t-to be romantically involved.”

Steve blinked at your sudden confession. It took him a moment to put his thoughts together, and he rubbed his forehead with his thumb several times. Meanwhile, you remembered all those times when he brought you nice food and wine, watched movies with you, combed your hair because he really liked how pretty it looked, and made you a shoulder massage when you were too tired. He bought your meds and always took care of your mental health the best way he could. Even if you had never talked about love, do fuck buddies normally do things like that? You were not so sure anymore.

“Damn, I get it.” For some reason he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t say it properly to you. You’re right, it’s completely my fault. I took it for granted that you saw me as I saw you, but I’ve never verbally admitted what I wanted from this relationship. I’m sorry, darling. Please, let me do it properly this time.”

You nodded, still feeling uncertain about all this. It felt a bit unreal at best.

“I love you.” He said with a grin and placed his hand on yours again. “You’re my precious little girl, and I want you to be with me. I want to keep you safe. I want you to stay close, so I would be able to protect you.”

You didn’t know why you cried, but your pathetic whimpering made Steve look at you with awe and admiration, his other hand gently caressing your wet face. He unclasped his seatbelt and moved closer to you, kissing your forehead. It only made you cry harder.

“It’ll be alright, baby. I know you’ve been through a lot this half a year. I’ll keep helping you, ok?” He shushed you gently, your phone still in the pocket of his black pants.

“Ok.” You managed to utter between your sobs.

“That’s it, darling.” Watching you with adoration, he took a wet wipe from the box in a car seat pocket and gently rubbed your face with it. “Everything gonna be alright. When you move in with me, I’ll take care of those guys, the friends of your neighbor, and you’ll be safe. But before that, promise you’re gonna listen to me, alright?”

You nodded once again, and Steve carefully wiped the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You’re so good for me, baby. I’ll take care of you, I promise. Just keep following the same rules we had before I deal with all those fuckheads, and nothing bad gonna happen, believe me.” He was gently rubbing your face with the wet wipe and taking off your smeared makeup, occasionally kissing your face. You kept nodding at him, not even listening to his words properly and trembling again like after leaving the courtroom when your neighbor’s mother shouted behind your back.

It was over. The trial was closed, and you were ought to be safe. But why, why did it feel like nothing had changed?


	10. Feel Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> surgeon!Bucky x Reader
> 
> He just needed a little incentive to help you.

_It will be alright. It will be alright. It will be alright._

You kept repeating these words like a mantra over and over in your head while looking at the bathroom door. You wished you’d taken some sedatives before coming here, but Natasha advised you strongly against it since it could affect your reaction. You needed to put up a good show for him. He was the only one who could save whatever family you had left.

When the sounds of shower running had died out, you quickly grabbed your glass of wine and emptied it to ease your nerves. You were about to fuck a man for a benefit in return.

Damn, why did it have to be like that? How did it turn out that your aunt’s surgery became twice more expensive because of specifics of her decease? You thought you had everything ready when you arrived at the clinic only to learn about more complications and the need to make new tests to ensure your aunt was able to handle the treatment. After the long talk with the surgeon you realized the surgery would be different from the one you anticipated in the beginning. And its cost was too high even with the money you got from selling your apartment, the one and only property in your possession. Except it, you had nothing valuable.

Then the surgeon, the man you had been in contact with the whole month when your aunt was going through all tests and screenings to get her medical documents done, offered you his help. He said he could get her into a sponsorship program organized by S.H.I.E.L.D., a huge international corporation that provided hospitals around the world with the newest medical equipment. Basically, it meant that most of your aunt’s expenses would be covered, the surgeon explained. He just needed some _incentive_ to go through this complicated process of getting her into the program, he said. 

And there you were, sitting on a spacious bed in a hotel room with just your robe on while Mr. Barnes was coming out of the shower. You felt like a prostitute.

“Enjoying yourself, baby?”

His deep voice made you snap out of your thoughts and smile widely at him, hiding your fear. You were playing a role of a silly little girl who was happy to do what she was told, and now it meant you would bounce on his cock until he cums and falls asleep, snoring like a freight train. God, you were disgusting.

“Yes, sir!” You answered cheerfully and laughed, making the last sip of wine. “This is so good!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He came closer and took an empty glass from your hand, a smug green on his handsome face making you even more nervous. “But ‘sir’ is just too formal, don’t you think?”

“True! I’m sorry.” Your expression turned to a guilty one, but you felt nothing except anxiety. It was all a game, and you needed to play your role to perfection. “Oh, maybe it’s _daddy_ then?”

Although the words made you want to throw up, you saw Bucky’s face becoming darker, his icy blue eyes clouded with lust when he came closer, looming above you with his hands on your face. Tracing his thumb along your cheek, he made you open your red lips and smeared your lipstick with his fingertip. Oh yes, he liked the way you called him. A baby girl like you definitely needed a daddy to take care of her. 

Enjoying the soft texture of your lips, he made you suck his thumb, and you licked it eagerly like a lollipop. The wine had finally kicked in and made everything a bit easier for you, looking at Bucky standing above you with hazy eyes, making you eager to pleasure him. After all, it was just sex. You needed to make him happy, fulfil your part of the deal, and then you’d be free – or so you hoped. Thinking of that, you sucked his thumb as a good girl you were and continued licking his fingers one by one while the man was caressing your hair, running his other hand through your lovely locks.

“I see you’re a clever girl, baby.” Bucky smirked, watching you with obvious arousal. “Get on the bed. Now.”

You gulped, unsure whether you had to undress yourself, but the man’s heavy gaze made you shiver, and you crawled back without second thoughts, Bucky on you the very next moment after you felt a puffy pillow beneath your head. A soft whimper left your throat when he roughly untied your white robe, leaving you naked. His hungry eyes made you feel like he wanted to fuck you into the mattress until your legs give out completely, and you barely smiled at him to play your role. Before you realized what was going on, the man’s lips, teeth and tongue were biting and sucking the skin on your neck.

“Ah!” You moaned, surprised at his impatience and deeply ashamed of your own reaction - his touch felt damn good, and you rested your hands on his broad back involuntary.

“Never been with a real man before, little girl?” He chuckled, lifting his head to stare at your blushing face, one of his palms stroking your neck. “I see. You’re gonna have fun.”

“Yes, daddy.” You let out a little laugh playfully, praying it would end soon.

_______________

When you stared at the high ceiling of the hotel room, you tried to think of your aunt, refusing to listen to soft breathing of a man who had just ruined you. Your core ached painfully as he was too big for you. You’d be delighted to say that you were disgusted at what he had done, but it’s not true. You’re spent. You enjoyed every minute of it even when Bucky brought you both pain and pleasure. You felt like a slut, remembering your own moans when he took you from behind, your hips bucking against his. God, what had you done?

You tried to think of yummy apple pies your aunt was baking for you all the time; wrinkles around her warm hazel eyes, and her work-weary hands, but the only one you saw when you closed your eyes was Bucky Barnes, the man who had torn you apart and was now sleeping soundly next to you.

Why were you still there? You had no obligation to stay. Carefully lifting your legs, you tried to move without a sound - you didn’t wish to see Barnes’ face again. Unfortunately, you moved too soon as he didn’t have enough time to fall asleep, and the man shot his eyes open, watching you grasping your robe.

“Where are you going, little girl?” He asked softly, somewhat confused at your frightened expression. Damn, you still needed to play your role.

“Sorry, daddy.” You cracked a smile, hoping he would not see how tightly you clenched the fabric in your hands. “I thought you’d want me to leave you alone. You had a tough day, hadn’t you?”

“You had a tough day, too.” His unexpectedly gentle voice made you bite your lips. You didn’t think someone as rough as him could be so tender. “I can imagine how hard it all has been for you, baby. You said your friend was going to stay with your aunt tonight, right? Take a little break.”

When you looked at him, you saw his sincere expression, the subtle twitch, concern in his light blue eyes… and felt like you couldn’t hold on anymore, your mask falling finally as you started sobbing. His face turned worried once he saw you pressing your forehead into the bedsheets to hide your tears, you distress evident as your knuckles turned white from clenching the blanket. Next second he was on his knees just like you were, embracing and holding you close while you wept like a child against his chest.


	11. Run, Hide, Leave behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warlock!Bucky x Reader
> 
> He was following you with such persistence as if you had mortally offended him once. It had hardly been a week, but you felt like you had spent an eternity lurking in the shadows, expecting the warlock to appear right in front of you any second. 

This place gave you creeps: abandoned medical facilities looked scary even on TV, but hiding in one of them at night by yourself was much more frightening. You would never come here if you had a choice. However, the one hunting you down did not particularly care for your fears, chasing you like a true police dog. The only reason why you came to an abandoned hospital at the outskirts of the city was because Wanda sent you here, saying that your shielding magic might work better in this particular location. Since you had no more places to hide – he destroyed every one of them, leaving dead bodies behind – it was your last refuge.

As you walked down the empty corridor, your sneaked into one of large rooms with several steel beds and no mattresses. The old creaky floor was dusty and bubbling, one of the windows boarded up, the others so dirty you could hardly see anything but silhouettes of the huge pine trees surrounding the hospital. Sighing, you took out a piece of chalk and got on your knees, drawing an uneven circle and started scribbling around it. You doubted it would really work when everything else didn’t.

The medallion on your chest got heavier with every word you whispered, and you thought how stupid it would be to die for just some old artifact. Sure, it carried the magic of the ancient, such power a mage like you could hardly imagine, but it was also the reason it was completely useless to you. Only the most talented and experienced magicians were to enjoy its power, while your pathetic charms could not even activate the medallion. You only kept it because it was your family’s heirloom, the one thing that was left to you by your parents. If you had ever known that it could nearly destroy your life, you would give it up the first time you saw Bucky.

Yes, he was the very same mage who was chasing you now, the legendary Winter Warlock who could cover the whole city in snow and ice in the middle of summer. You could still hear Wanda’s screams once he literally blew the door along with the half of a hallway with his magic.

Why was the medallion so important to him? He was above all the sorcerers you had ever known. He probably had tons of magical artifacts like this, the silver glove he wore on his left hand being a much more powerful item. Moreover, since Bucky Barnes was a well-known outlaw of the magic world who had been in hiding for years, it was odd he came out now. He was following you with such persistence as if you had mortally offended him once. It had hardly been a week, but you felt like you had spent an eternity lurking in the shadows, expecting the warlock to appear right in front of you any second.

The sacred symbols were glowing with gentle golden light as you finished creating your shield, probably the only thing you were more or less good at. It was a great pity your shields were just the means of protection, nothing else. You saw once how Pietro’s Bounded Fields cut an arm of a mage who wanted to break through, but you were so repulsed by the sight of blood and someone’s suffering that you have never tried to learn this type of magecraft.

Nonetheless, even Pietro’s charms were not good enough against someone like Winter Warlock. He was amongst the few ones who could use True Magic. They said he even knew the spatial warping spells.

You heard a loud bang and felt your skin crawling. Warlock was here, in the corridor on your right, you could see his massive distorted form through the open door – a dark cloud was slowly turning into a tall beefy figure. Apparently, Barnes was keen on keeping himself in a good physical condition.

You swallowed, your heart pounding wildly. It was the end of you. Quickly removing the medallion from your chest, you looked at it and bit down on your lower lip. You asked your ancestors to forgive you for not being able to keep your heirloom safe and stood up. When Tony, the head wizard of your coven, had given up on helping you, you knew you will die in a matter of few days.

“It’s nice to see you waiting for me.” Warlock said in a low voice, and you shivered: he had always been silent every time you saw him. Something was different today.

You could not utter a single word in return, watching him entering the dark room and smirking at the sight of your pathetic golden shield. He raised his right arm, and the chalk was immediately erased from the dirty floor, living you with no protection against his magic whatsoever. Well, it was worth a try.

As he advanced towards you, his black cloak almost reaching the floor, you suddenly reached out for him, having a medallion in your hand. Maybe he could give you an easy death then, you thought. Maybe he would not, but now there was nothing you could do about it. For some reason you were unable to end your own life – three days ago you tried to drink the poison but dropped the bottle once your lips touched its top.

“Why?”

Warlock narrowed his icy blue eyes, and you gasped for air. Did he expect you to fight him? Was he thinking you had to die an honorable death for your heirloom? Surely, he knew your pathetic sorcery couldn’t even reach him through his own magic circle.

“You wanted to have it. Take it then.” You managed to say meekly, watching the red star on his shoulder, a symbol of deadly blood magic user. “Anyway, there’s nothing I can do to protect it.”

“The medallion?” Bucky chuckled, coming closer to you with each step and watching your body tremble. “You think I’ve been following you the whole fucking week for _this?_ ”

Despite his harsh tone, he carefully took the artifact in his flesh hand and then touched the dull metal with his silver fingers, making the medallion shine all of a sudden. Ah, his power activated it.

“I… I thought… you reached out for it when you came the first time.” You mumbled, confused. “I have nothing except it. Nothing valuable.”

Suddenly, he tilted his head back and laughed loudly, still carrying the medallion in his hand. You were taken aback by his response and just froze on the spot – what the hell was happening here? He tried to snatch this little piece of metal from your chest once he spotted you. If he wasn’t coming for it, what else could he possibly want from you, a low mage who had only discovered her powers a year ago?

The corners of his eyes crinkled once he grinned at you, coming so close that you could feel his breath on your skin. He didn’t punch you, though, or hurt you in any other way. Bucky simply put the medallion back on you again.

“Look at me closely, little girl.” He demanded, and you stared at him like a rabbit in front of a snake.

Before you could realize what was happening, his face features started to change, the magic making him look younger, healthier as his dark circles and pale skin were transforming slowly. His dark long hair became much shorter, his smile less threatening, and in a few seconds, you were looking into the face of a young soldier James you had met something like a month ago in an amusement park. In fact, you started going out with him - he was probably the sweetest men you had ever encountered, gentle and caring. James was one of a few people who could make you laugh to tears with his jokes, too.

But a sudden appearance of Winter Warlock ruined everything. You had to hide, and since James knew nothing of your magic powers, it was very unclever to get him involved in all this. So, you simply stopped calling him and then dumped your phone shortly, afraid for both his life and your own. You were scared Warlock could do something to him once he learnt James was important to you, but, thankfully, it had never happened.

Then it suddenly occurred to you that you saw those icy blue eyes before. It’s just that time you thought they were the same color as the winter sky, and you told James a few times how unusual they looked. He was both proud and somewhat shy about it.

Clenching the medallion in your hand, you felt tears filling your eyes and stepped back from Warlock as he reversed his magic, and his hair grew back again, his face tired and aged up.

“Is this how you entertain yourself?” You barked at him and wiped the wet tracks with you shaking hands, but tears kept streaming, nonetheless. “Pretending to be someone you’re not and having fun with a mage who can’t win against you? Do you enjoy hunting people down that much?”

“No, I don’t.” He said sternly and made a step towards you while you kept going back. “You brought it upon yourself, don’t you think?”

“And what have I done?” You tried to fight back the tears, thinking of all the times you spent together, talking nonsense, having fun, laughing. It stung. It only made you cry harder, and you turned your reddened face away from his. “What didn’t you like? Didn’t my kisses feel nice? Or was it the way I dressed? Were you mad at me because you didn’t get into my skirts?”

“Oh, I could get there pretty fast if I wanted to, love.” Bucky smirked, and you sent him a glare. How could this bastard be your James, the man who spent all his money to win you a teddy bear in an amusement park? How could he play his role to perfection, making you never even once doubt his intentions? Did he use a love potion or charms of some kind to draw you to him? With his level of skill, it would be easy. Maybe it explained why you fell in love with him so goddamn fast.

“Then what the hell do you want from me?”

You realized he had cornered you only when your back was pressed into the cold wall beside you. Although you were ready to die just mere minutes ago, now you wanted to fight. Regardless whether you could use magic or not, you were ready to make everything a bit harder for Warlock rather than silently submitting to him.

“Why didn’t you come to the cinema that night, little girl? I was waiting.” His smug smile faded, and you felt fear rising up in your gut again. “I’ve been waiting for a damn hour for you to show up or send me a message. When you didn’t, I went to see you only to find a pretty blond guy taking care of you in bed.”

The color drained out of your face when you remembered the night when you didn’t come to see the movie you two chose. Warlock was right. You weren’t there for James because you had a migraine, and Pietro and Wanda came to put some soothing charms and help you relieve the pain. It was Pietro who had casted a sleeping spell when his sister was in the kitchen doing her herb potion.

When Warlock came to ruin your house in the middle of the night, you chose to run, completely forgetting about apologizing to James. You had no time for it. You fled immediately and never thought of the night when you were supposed to meet him in the cinema, instead thinking of keeping him away from the mess you got yourself into. It was impossible to link these two events in your head as Bucky had never said why he was following you in the first place. Of course, for you the only logical reason was the artifact.

But in the end, he didn’t want to grab to your medallion. He was reaching out to touch you.

Well, at least it explained why he was trying to tear Pietro apart, almost chopping his arm. If not the Bounding Fields and Wanda’s teleportation spell, he would be dead for sure.

“I was unwell.” You forced the words out of your mouth. “Pietro and Wanda were there to heal me.”

“Did they, truly?” His cool silver hand gently touched your wet cheek.

“Give me the Truth Potion then.” You almost spat in his face, clenching your hands into fists. “Go inside my head, see the truth for yourself. You blame me for something I have never done when you made me believe you’re a nice man, used me, manipulated my feelings, and then hunt me down like an animal. God, you had almost killed the man who only tried to _help_ me! You murdered several trespassers who weren’t ever wizards at all!”

When you finished, you felt your hands going limp as you could no longer control your own body. You felt like you were floating in the air, your legs too weak to keep you standing, and you let out a small sob. Did you forget in your rage that you were talking to one of the most powerful dark magicians? He could kill you with his thumb.

“If what you’re saying is true, you’ll get your sweet soldier back, love.” A dark smile slid across his lips. “Or would you prefer me, the mage? I bet I could give you much more as a sorcerer. I could teach you to use your medallion, give you the power you’d never even dreamt of. Believe me, you’re going to like it.”

“I want you to leave me alone.” You said under your breath, frightened and distressed, but his hand was already on your chest leaving a bloody star on your grey jacket.

“Too late, dear. You made your choice a month ago.”


	12. Your place chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve x Reader (High school AU)
> 
> You suffer in the arms of America’s golden boy, the one who has been bullying you for years.

“Damn girl, you better put some makeup.” Someone’s loud voice behind your back made you flinch. “Y'know, you can still do something about that face.”

You heard a burst of laughter and bit your lips. It had always been a part of your daily routine for several years once you moved to New York and went to Abraham Lincoln High School. God, you regretted it with all your heart.

“Come on, Sam. Give her some credit.” You didn’t even need to turn your head to know who was speaking. “She’s the natural beauty, isn’t she?”

You spun on your heels, watching harshly the group of guys leaning against the wall and smirking at you, all beefy, muscular and tall. The biggest assholes in whole Brooklyn; players of Howling Commandos, your school’s basketball team; the ones most of the girls dreamed about and to whom they sent love letters every goddamn week, as the guys claimed. They had been your absolute nightmare since you got transferred to this place.

You glanced at Steve Rogers, America’s golden boy, incredibly handsome with those blonde hair and blue eyes; the picture-perfect image of a diligent, polite student; the one whose face they put on promotional posters every year. You knew better than anyone else who was hiding behind this facade of “just a kid from Brooklyn”.

“What, are you moody after yesterday’s game?” You smirked, knowing very well that they had just lost against Hydra, the team Steve always hated with all his soul. “Go fuck youself and calm down, dear. Or are your buddies gonna lend you a hand, maybe?”

The smile fell from his face as the guy frowned, his bright blue eyes burning a hole in your figure. You guessed he really missed those days when you just listened quietly while he and his friends kept insulting you, but these days were long gone. You grew some teeth by the end of your final year.

“Listen, you little…” Bucky hissed, but Steve raised his hand and made him fall silent as you grinned, clenching your lunchbox in your hands.

Oh, he was mad. You knew well how much Rogers detested swear words, especially if they were coming from a woman’s mouth.

“Watch your language, girl,” his voice was unusually hoarse, his eyes watching you intensely, “or I’ll have to teach you how to speak to a man myself.”

“I’d like to see that.” You giggled nervously, relieved there were enough students passing by to prevent Steve from doing anything stupid. “But if you want to complain to Mr. Banner to give me a detention, please feel free, dear.”

You turned around with a silly smile on your face, waiting for him and his friends to give you some more empty threats, but you heard nothing at all as you kept walking. Suddenly feeling victorious and somewhat invincible, you laughed to youself, hurrying away. Did you just make those assholes silent, gasping for words at your audacity? Did it truly shut their goddamn mouths? God, it was unbelievable. Well, maybe going against Steve Rogers wasn’t wise, but you couldn’t pretend you were okay with that attitude of his after all those years of pure humiliation. You did nothing but protected yourself, right? Besides, he could hardly do anything since you were never alone at school, and after finishing your classes you were lucky to be driven home by your dad who worked close.

But maybe buying a mace wasn’t a bad idea.

You laughed at yourself, finally arriving at the cafeteria and landing on one of the seats with a loud sigh. You knew Steve and his friends wouldn’t do anything - their college admission was at stake, and you’d be happy to provide police with all the details if anything were to happen to you. Surely, they wouldn’t risk it for just a few words you exchanged with them this morning.

_________________

Shit, you were so late for your PE class! Everyone was already at the field while you ran to the locker room, gasping for air. You didn’t need Maximoff to yell at you the third time this month.

You threw your bag to the floor once you spotted your locker and jumped to it, abandoning your skirt in a matter of seconds and desperately trying to get your shorts out. You didn’t care much about your surroundings as no one else was inside the locker room. Class had already started 10 minutes ago.

You didn’t think anyone could be waiting for you here on purpose.

Before your heard the lock snap, somebody slammed your body into the locker, pressing you to its cool metal door so hard you lost your ability to move. Frightened to death, you were ready to scream, but someone’s hand clamped over your mouth, muffling the sound. God, what was happening? Who was that? Why didn’t you see anyone?

“Shhh, it’s okay.” You knew this voice too well. “You can keep screaming, but there’s no one around, you know that.”

You grunted against his hand, trying your best to throw the huge guy off you but achieving little: Steve was a bull of a man. His enormously big body leaned so close to yours that you could feel his every fucking muscle with his chest pressed to your back. His other hand gripped your throat tighter to make you stop squirming.

You needed to keep your mouth shut today instead of provoking him.

“Yeah, like that.” Steve shushed you in a mockingly gentle tone, lifting his hand from your mouth and nuzzling against your ear, inhaling your scent. “I like when you’re quiet.”

“What the fuck are you doing, Rogers?” You asked him furiosly, pretending you weren’t frightened to death. “Have you lost your head?”

“Language.” His low gutteral growl made you shiver as you felt his palm on your neck moving.

Clenching your teeth, you tried pushing him away once more, but instead you just grinded against his heated body and realized he was… aroused, the bulge in his pants obvious as you moved your ass. God, no. No, no, no! You were at the edge of going into hysterics, shaking and pushing and crying with his hand on your mouth again. It was hard to breath with so little space Steve gave you, his unbearably hot body covering yours.

“What happened, _dear?_ Cat got your tongue?” You were disgusted at his sweet loving tone. “Aw, don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. You wanted me to teach you how to speak to a man, remember?”

His grip on you was madly strong - you winced in pain once Steve had squeezed the cheek of your ass with his huge calloused palm, your head pressed into the cool metal locker as he hovered above you. When he started kissing your neck, you bit your tongue in utter despair. He was fucking sick. Deranged. He was ready to do this over some little quarrel when the only thing you actually did was responding to his bullying.

Your mind was hazy as you started losing your strength after good five-minute struggle. Rogers didn’t relent in his efforts to keep you pinned and completely defenseless.

“This is rape, Steve.” You whispered, exhausted and anxious. “Do you understand?”

“Come on, what are you saying?”

His hand travelled down to your hips as he caressed them gently and moved to tug your panties down your legs.

“You’re so wet for me, dear. How can you call it rape?” You shut your eyes when Steve touched you down there, forcing you to spread your legs and settling in against the craddle of your thighs. As he moved the elastic of your black panties, his fingers were playing with your folds, and you realized with shame he was right as he spread a bit of your wetness on your skin playfully. “Admit it, you have a thing for bullies.”

“No, I d…”

Before you could bark at him he forced you to turn your head and kissed you hungrily, pushing his tongue in your half-opened mouth. You squirmed, grasping his hand, yet his arm that he used to hold your chin before swept yours away as he pushed you against the locker even harder. You could feel his erected cock through the fabric of his school pants.

Making a soft noise at the feeling of his tongue rubbing against yours, you heard Rogers groaning, his chest heaved. If you could pull away, a shudder would rush down your spine at the sight of his face. Instead of a school bully there was a predator waiting to tear his prey apart.

“Stop, please…” You panted heavily once he finished kissing you, his fingers still caressing your womanhood, your juices leaking down your thighs. “Why me? What have I done? You have hundreds of girls who want to throw themselves at you.”

He smiled and rested his sweating forehead against yours, teasing your entrance.

“You see, it’s easy. You get off on being bullied, and I get off on bullying you.” Steve started rubbing little circles on your engorged clit, admiring your blushing cheeks. “We can have so much fun together if you just stop resisting me and _take your place._ ”


	13. Your place chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve x Reader (High school AU)
> 
> You suffer in the arms of America’s golden boy, the one who has been bullying you for years.

“Are you going to come on Saturday?”

Steve moved his hand down your naked belly, watching you laying close to him on your bed and breathing softly. You glanced back at him, his handsome features illuminated by the dim light coming from the lamp on your nightstand.

“Where to?” You asked as he covered the back of your hand with his palm twice bigger than yours.

“The field house. We have a game.”

He traced your knuckles with his fingertips and you thought how odd Steve was. Who could have thought the school’s biggest bully was such a cuddle-bug after sex? It wasn’t bad, though. You actually liked this side of him.

“Sure.”

You weren’t interested much in basketball or any other sports, but it was easier to come rather then fight Steve again. He was stubborn like a mule. Besides, a part of you felt like you belong there - many of your classmates were coming to see almost every game.

Why did Steve care whether you were there or not? Surely, he had already been showing you off in front of everyone as much as he could as if you were his trophy - now you sat close to him in class and then in cafeteria during lunch time; he was dragging you with him after classes along with his stupid friends. The whole school knew the nature of your relationship, and the first weeks it was making you bitter and hateful. Steve Rogers head fucking forced himself on you, yet instead of sympathy all you got was an enormous amount of jealousy. You were still receiving hate mailes dropped into your locker. The girls kept whispering curses behind your back as you walked down the corridors with Steve and his pack of wolves. He was able to make everyone silent, though. Now even his friends had no right to bully you like before. He reserved it purely for himself.

“Did you buy yourself a dress?”

“What dress?” You blinked in confusion. “Do I need a dress on Saturday?”

Steve smiled at you and leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“No, kitten, I’m talking about the prom.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. Of course, Steve Rogers needed to show off everywhere he possibly could - he definitely hoped to become prom king. You, on the contrary, didn’t care much. In fact, you didn’t want to come there at all. You hardly had any friends at school, and coming to watch Steve flashing his smile and basking in the rays of glory would only make you more irritated with him.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then we could go together. I know one nice place.”

“Where? 5th Avenue again?”

You smirked, watching the guy frown. Last time you went shopping together was a nightmare for you. You ended up with several bags of expensive lingerie Steve paid for, and you were disgusted at yourself for giving in to him. True, his family was twice wealtier than yours, but it didn’t mean you wanted anything from him. Except for leaving you alone, that is.

“And what of it?” Rogers asked you sharply, rising above you. “If I want to buy you a dress, I will.”

You sighed, turning your head to Steve and pulling your body closer against his. You learned to enjoy this intimacy with time as he taught you what making love to each other meant. You were pleasantly surprised at his efforts to make you feel good.

“Steve, please. I don’t want to think of it now. It’s… ruining the mood.”

He purred as you caressed his blonde hair and snuggled closer to you, dropping little kisses to your face and touching your cheek affectionately. Steve loved being tender. You believed he had a real physical need to touch you one way or another, often without any sexual subtext at all. It was almost as bad as his need to bully you verbally, especially when he was aroused. You were still learning how to cope with that.

If only he didn’t make those photos of you and him in the locker room that time. It was the only reason you obeyed him three months ago when he declared he wanted to keep you close. You didn’t know if Steve had stored those pictures somewhere, but you weren’t worried about them anymore. His obvious obsession with you would keep him from showing photos of you naked with his cock buried inside your wet cunt to the hilt. You could walk away now, yet everything wasn’t as easy as before. Steve made sure to gain trust of your parents, pretending to be the perfect caring boyfriend to you and just a very good guy to everyone else. He also made you meet his parents who turned out to be surprisingly nice, nothing like their son. Steve’s mother Sarah took an immediate liking to you and often sent you a huge piece of her famous raspberry pie. It was a highlight of your day when Steve handed it to you during lunch. If you broke up with him now, you were sure he’d make up some story where you were the one to blame, and it would make your life even more miserable.

“Why are we doing this, Steve?” You asked him quietly as he played with a lock of your shiny hair. When be looked back at you, you realized he knew what you were talking about.

“What do you mean?” He grunted in return.

“You know this can’t last forever.” You said, your voice tired. “There are only a few months left before the graduation.”

You were still stroking his hair as he bit down on his plump lower lip, his eyes not leaving your face as he stared down at you from above. There was something unsettling in his gaze, something dark, even scary, but you refused to be afraid of his temper tantrums.

“We’re applying to different colleges, and they’re not close to each other. How do you think we can keep… _this_ going?”

Steve struggled for words, and you saw he was getting frustrated. It was odd - he liked to use aggression as his shield, rarely showing his vulnerable side to anyone and barking off whatever accusation you threw at him. Yet here you were, looking at the guy who couldn’t utter a word to answer a simple question.

Was it despair you saw on his pretty face?

“You can choose the same place, too.”

“Are you joking? My family would have so sell our house to pay for my studies then.” You let out a sigh.

“You can apply for a grant. With your grades it’s not impossible.”

“Steve, let’s be realistic. You wanna go to Columbia University. Do you have any idea how many people are applying for a grant to study there?” You said and, seeing him getting more agitated, wrapped your hands around his muscular shoulders, reaching out to kiss him again.

He deepened the kiss immediately, swirling his tongue around yours and then licking the insides of your mouth when you mewled softly beneath him. The soft vibration against his lips made Steve shivered from pleasure. He spent a bit more time rolling the tip of his tongue all the way around yours and finally released you, dropping a kiss to your chin.

“If you can’t make it, I’m going to apply to the same place as you.” He whispered, and you felt his cock gradually getting harder. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to take me.”

“Steve, you’re mad.” You shaked your head. “What are your parents going to say? They want the best for y-”

“I don’t care what they want, it’s up to me to decide.” The guy growled and bit your lower lip gently, lowering himself on top of you again. “You’re my girl, and my girl is going with me. I still have those photos in case you forgot.”

“Ah!”

You squeezed your eyes shut as his fingers touched your overstimulated clit, rubbing it skillfully as you squirmed. Your mouth fell agape as you were left gasping for air, trapped under Steve’s athletic figure. Moaning at his touch, you looked at him, feverish, getting aroused again, your hands caressing his back as he smiled at you. He loved when you were a blushing mess beneath him, crying out his name as you were orgasming. No one else got to see you like this.

“I know you were a good girl today, but I want some more. You can handle it, can’t you?” The guy cooed in your ear. “Come on, kitten. Show me how you mewl with my cock inside you. You’re gonna mewl for me, right? Do it. Now.”

You did as he said when his fingers were slowely fucking your sloppy cunt, your core aching for his dick almost painfully. Mewling softly, you kissed him again, and Steve slammed into you, muffling your high-pitched cry with his mouth as he started rocking his hips. It felt so good, _so fucking good._ A wail of pleasure ripped from your throat, and Steve grinned at you.

“You’re such a good little kitten, Y/N. I think next time we won’t go to a restaurant, I’m just gonna give you a cat bowl full of my cum. You’re gonna lick it clean, yeah? You’re gonna do that for me, dear?”

“Yes, yesss, Steve.” You whined as you felt your pussy kissing the base of his cock with a lewd sound. Panting and moving with Steve, you already felt one more orgasm building up, your mouth open and drooling. “I’m a good kitten, I’m a good kitten… pleaseplease Steeeeve…”

He groaned at your words, speeding up gradually and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head: he was rubbing against your g-spot to make your pussy milk his balls dry. Of, he fucking loved seeing that stupid expression on your face when you came, completely helpless, dependent on him to give you pleasure no one else could.

Steve was the one and only who could make you like this. Who the hell cared what his friends or parents said if he could hear you moaning his name beneath him whenever he liked? You were becoming more and more accepting, clinging to him when others were to mock you in public, spreading your legs for him when he cornered you in your or his own room. You grew to enjoy obeying him like a good girl you were, and Steve was going to keep you, finally, after all those long years of waiting.

He would make sure you never left his sight again.


	14. Warlock's Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warlock!Bucky x Reader
> 
> You walked side by side with the Devil.

You still had hard time believing you were walking down the Great Hall, stepping on the white marbled floors and doing your best not to shake while the members of the court stared down at you as if you were some fairytale creature. You saw giant mirrors hanging on blazing white walls and golden curtains, huge heavy chandeliers with thousands of candles, the statues of gold double eagles - everything here was so different compared to the gloomy tower of the Warlock where it was dark even during the brightest days.

Knowing he watched you out of the corner of his eye, you clenched your teeth, keeping your composure. You had to make a good impression, not gape at the walls like a country girl. Maybe you weren’t an aristocrat like most of the people here, but you were the Shadow Enchanter, the Soldat’s Apprentice, second only to him, and you had a power to reckon with.

“Keep your head up, girl.” You heard Bucky’s voice in your head and stiffened involuntary. “We are above them all.”

Would you be charged with treason if anyone was to discover what your master was telling you? You bet you would.

You stepped on the blue carpet and finally saw a raised throne of gold at the end of the room, beautiful people in ostentatious clothes milling over it - all you saw were not faces but gowns of silk and brocade, fancy parade uniforms, ribbons, medals, and bawdricks. This extravagance was slowly making your stomach sick, but you thought of your completely black soldier’s dress and felt a bit better abour yourself. Your master and you must have looked like two crows among the peacocks.

“The Warlock and Shadow Enchanter.” Somebody’s loud voice thundered, and you saw the King sitting on the golden throne, the Queen to his right, and two young men standing by their sides.

God, it was happening, truly.

The King looked like a man who carried the weight of the world on his thin shoulders, his face unhealthy pale - you could see the dark circles around his eyes regardless of how court magicians tried to cover them with their glamour charms. It was true then, all the rumors you heard of King’s withering health. He was only in his forties, but, apparently, he would hardly last long.

The Queen, on the contrary, looked nothing like her plain husband, her body unmistakably strong, her forms magnificent and face looking fresh with ruddy, healthy glow in her cheeks. Her older son was much like her with the same grace in his features - Steven was his name, and he was the very same Prince Charming all the girls in the Academy were talking about when you were still studying there.

You wanted to stare shamelessly at his immensely handsome face, his eyes blue like southern sky in the summer, but you bit your tongue instead. You were no longer a girl dreaming of marrying princes and living in a high castle.

Then you glanced quickly at the other son, Peter, the one who was about your age. While Steven, undoubtedly, took after his mother, Peter reminded you of the King, although much younger and - you admitted with shame - much prettier. He had dark hair and dark eyes, yet there was light to his face. Maybe he lacked the same intimidating air the other royals had around them, but you saw his dignity, his kind and clever eyes shining with interest as the Warlock and you moved closer to the end of the room.

You liked the younger son, you thought and then cringed as you failed to keep your eyes off the princes once again.

“Please don’t collapse if one of them decides to talk to you.”

You clenched your teeth tighter, hating this awful manner with which your master intruded in your thoughts all the time.

You needed to keep calm. You were to give your vows to protect the royal family and your kingdom. And later… later you were most certainly to be invited to the royal ball organized in Warlock’s honor to celebrate his return. Maybe you would get a glimpse of the princes there.

_____________

“Do you think I brought you here to give you to the prince?” His mocking tone turned dark, poisonous. “You think I’ve been teaching you magic all these years so you could marry one of those pathetic royals and keep giving them babies with Enchanter’s blood running through their veins?”

You tried to move away from the Warlock, but he grabbed you by the arm and brought you closer, watching you wincing in pain.

“My task is to keep away the Great Shadow.” You whispered, horrified with your teacher’s sudden shift of mood and wishing to run to the door the moment he’d let you go. “It doesn’t mean I should be celibate.”

“And your husband has to be the prince, of course.” Bucky grimaced and cupped your chin, staring at you with his scary light eyes from above. “Women. You’re all the same. It is never enough for you, is it? I gave you the power to wreck the world, and all you want is to lay beneath a weakling wearing the crown.”

You pushed him, chanting a little spell - you caught him by surprised and quickly stepped back, shiver running down your spine. You had seen the Warlock being furious many times, but never as mad as now, pacing back and forth your chamber like a caged beast, his hands clenched in fists. God, you knew he’d take it badly.

“I’ve done no wrong.” You claimed in a shaky voice, thinking of whether you had to chant a barrier around yourself. “I didn’t betray you. His Highness said nothing about marrying me or anything of this kind! We’ve only danced and talked about science and magic.”

Bucky let out a laugh, and you felt your stomach twisting.

“Of course, my dear. No one will say anything to you until one day they’ll come to your chambers and announce your wedding with prince without asking for your approval. By the way, sweetheart, which prince do you want?” The knot in your throat prevented you from defending yourself in front of your furious master. “I guess you like the young one more, but you caught the attention of the crown prince. You want to be the Queen, don’t you? This is the only thing that matters for a little minx like you.”

Biting down on your lip, you felt your eyes watering at his words. Why was he saying that? You had never been power-hungry. You cared little for royals and luxury surrounding them, and your master knew it better than anyone else. Why was he saying that? Why did he need to humiliate you for something you had never wished for even in your dreams?

“But I’ve got to tell you the truth.” The man looked at you bitterly. “You’ll never be their equal. They’ll treat you like nothing but the tool to strengthen their bloodline, and that’s all you got to be for them. You’ll become one more of their Assets like I’ve been before.”

“Am I not the Asset to you?” You blinked away the tears and stared at him with revulsion, feeling betrayed. “Weren’t you going to use me for your own purpose? Don’t tell me you wanted to set me free. What’s the difference between you and the royal family?”

“Ungrateful little brat.” He hissed and moved before you could create the shield.

The man gripped your hair in his fist and yanked you towards your bed, hovering above you and pushing your face in the mattress with all his force. Your cry was muffled by the blanket as you tried to fight him, but was easily outpowered, ropes binding your arms by your master’s command. Your first thought was that Bucky wanted to strangle you in rage - you could hardly breathe beneath his large hand. Knowing his unyielding temperament, you did what you could to wriggle free, chanting more and more spells, yet he was able to undo your clumsy charms with ease.

“Stop struggling.” He snarled, pushing your face into the bed. “Or I’ll show what you get for talking to your master like that.”

His angry voice sounded threatening - the last time you disregard it he whipped you that bad you couldn’t sit properly for a week, but today everything might end up much worse that that, you thought. You always got to obey him no matter what.

Why did you had to now, though? You were no longer his little girl, hiding in his shadow. Today you were deemed worthy serving your King, and, in fact, the Warlock had no power over you anymore. Unfortunately, he was never bothered by formalities.

“I have fed you, clothed you, given you the roof above you head and shared my knowledge with you.” You heard him growling in your ear as he let you breathe again, moving his palm from your head to the back of your neck. “And this is how you thank me for everything I’ve done for you?”

“I’ve served you all these years like a dog.” You hissed. “I’ve cooked and cleaned, I’ve made so many potions I could make a fortune from it alone, I’ve protected the Tower when Wakandan magus came searching for you. I took all your beatings without saying a word!”

“I didn’t beat you, I’ve trained you.”

“You can call it whatever you like, master.” You grinned wickedly at him, watching him with your peripheral vision.

His gaze darkened, and you realized you were only making it worse for yourself. Nevertheless, you refused to be intimidated by him, the man who had ruled over you, took advantage of you, forced you to obey his every whim and keep your mouth shut. You wouldn’t let him treat you like that. Not anymore.

You felt his ragged breath on the top of your head, his huge body pressing yours into the mattress. He was the Winter Soldier, the Soldat, the Warlock, but you could bring the Great Shadow to the chamber with a snap of your fingers, and he could do nothing to fight it. The only issue with it was that the King would claim you a traitor instead of savior and send all his soldiers to hunt you till the end of your days.

Suddenly, you sensed Bucky’s grip weakening, and then he withdrew his hand, letting you move away from him that very second, ropes falling on the bed sheets. His eyes were as cold as a winter night when he stared at you, crawling away from him on the bed.

“Do you want the crown, Y/N?” The man asked sharply, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I want someone to love me.” You said angrily. “I want to be treated kindly. I want to feel appreciated. I want all the things you would never give me, master.”

For a moment you thought Bucky looked hurt before he was on you again, his hands clenching yours and blocking your charms. As you stared at his face, his expression enraged, you growled just like him.

“Rot in Hell.” You barked, almost ready to call the Shadow.

“I’ve been rotting long before you were born, little girl.”

He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. You saw his anger disappearing, but you didn’t feel a delicious sense of relief, anxiety washing over you even more.

“They’ve taken away all I had. They stripped me of any family and friends, my comrades, anything I treasured, and they want to snatch you away from me all the same.” He whispered lowly, watching you frown. “Stay with me, and I’ll make you a saint in the eyes of people. You’re the Shadow Enchanter, you’re above all the royals hiding in this wretched place.”

“But you want me beneath you.” You said, deeply hurt at his words and his desire to control you even when you thought he deemed you worthy of his trust. “Above them all, but beneath you. Don’t you see I want to be neither queen nor saint? All I ever wanted was to be treated fairly, and you denied me this. You’re keep doing it even now.”

Suddenly, you realized tears were streaming down your face and making the pillow beneath you wet.

“What have I done to you? I loved you with all my heart, and you mocked me for it. You’ve made me force these feelings down my throat. I wanted you to be proud of me, value me, tell me I’m good enough, but you didn’t. Now you get mad because someone else dared to do it?”

His eyes went wide at your confession.

“Did you love me? Did you ever love me?”

“I did. I even dreamt of marrying you.” You bit back a cry, angry at yourself for telling him the truth when all you wanted was to spit in his face. “Imagine, master, I hoped to bear your children. But if you don’t want it, maybe one day someone else would.”

“I do. I want it.”

You winced from humiliation and a deep sense of shame, your face flushed.

Of course, now he’d say whatever you wanted to hear from him to make you comply again. He’d play with your feelings as he had always done, and in the end you won’t ever become the true Shadow Enchanter, you’d always be the Warlock’s faithful Apprentice and nothing else.

“Do you think I can believe you now?” You let out a quiet laugh, staring at him with resentment and hate.

“I don’t need you to believe me.” He said and pressed his dry chapped lips to your forehead. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you that you’re wrong.”

Bucky moved slightly, and you felt the bulge in his pants against your thigh. Oh Gods.

“No, no, master, please-”

“I’ll make you a saint. I’ll put a crown on your pretty head.” His whisper burnt your ear when his nose brushed against your temple. “I’ll give you all the things you deserve, and no prince will take you away from me.”


	15. What the night brings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky x Reader
> 
> This was a present for amazing @hurricanerin! Beware of shameless smut guys :D

You have sensed someone moving beside you on the bed long before you felt the stranger touching your ass, but you were feeling too tired to wake up properly and push this person away from you. You had a tough day and wasn’t able to fall asleep before it was long past midnight. It was around 3 or 4 am now, probably.

But then you were awoken by the gentle push anyway, your pussy stuffed with Bucky’s cock to the brim as you moaned softly, disoriented and still half-asleep. Feeling uncomfortably full as he stretched you without giving much time to adjust, you shifted and tried to move away, but his strong hand kept you close to him. You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“Bucky?.. What is it?”

“Shhh. Sleep, honey.”

He shushed you gently and kissed the skin behind your ear while you moved your ass and let out a subtle moan again. God, you could feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

“Bucky, what… what are you doing?” You grunted, turning your head to him and feeling his warm breath on your skin. “I can’t sleep… ugh… l-like that.”

“Of course you can, honey.” He murmured and covered your breast with his flesh palm, rubbing circles around your nipple covered by your tee. Oh, he was insufferable today.

You really wanted to punch him or take his hands away at the very least, biting the fabric of your pillow. Was he that horny he couldn’t let you sleep just a little bit more? You were giving him a nice blowjob every fucking morning after he locked you here, anyway.

“Bucky, please.” You whispered, getting your face closer to his and kissing him tenderly to appeal to him. “I can neither sleep nor cum like that.”

He hummed in your mouth as he stroked your nipples some more, not giving in to you just yet, and you realized he started moving inside you already wet cunt. The man was brushing his cock against that sweet little spot as you moaned louder, you pussy starting throbbing.

“I wanted to fill you up when you were asleep, but this can work too.” He said in your ear and buried himself into you to the hilt once more. “On your stomach, dear.”

Before you objected and said you just wanted him to leave you alone, Bucky had made you move, rolling you on your belly, and got on top of your after that. His flesh hand was on the cheek of your ass as he licked his dry lips and squeezed your flesh softly, adoring the way you looked beneath him stuffed with his girthy cock.

“Look what a good girl you’ve become for me." He murmured affectionately, his hands pressed into your pillow. "Since you’ve been so good, I’ll give you what you want.”

You wanted him to let you go, stop breeding you every fucking day to knock you up eventually, but you shut your mouth. It would only make Bucky angrier, and he would most likely chain you to bed again.

Your wetness trailed down your thighs as he pounded into you, your pussy trying to milk him as he groaned quietly above you. He kept pushing you into the mattress, and soon you were a complete mess, moaning and calling and pleading him to speed up. Today he was kind enough to listen.

“Say thank you.” Bucky demanded harshly and kept drilling into you, his metal hand tugging you by the hair so you tipped your head back.

“T-thank you!” A loud moan escaped your lips as you orgasmed beneath him, clenching the bet sheets until your knuckles became white. “Thankyouthankyouth… ah, hahh… yess-”

You heard his low gutteral growl when he went still, his hot cum spilling right up against your cervix, his body pressing into yours so much as if he wanted to collapse on top of you, crushing you with his weight. You were too exhausted to care, though, and simply rested your face on the pillow.


	16. The one who cared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skinny!Steve x Reader

You had never noticed the way he watched you from afar, his blue eyes directed only at you as if other people around simply didn’t exist. Of course, you were nice enough to come to his flat almost every day, bringing him the bags of grocery, sometimes his medication and even pieces of homemade pies you were baking, so he was able to see you really often. Steve also knew he could come to you anytime if he wanted to. He only needed to say he felt sad or lonely, and you would spend the whole evening talking to him about anything and everything.

But he liked watching you from afar when you didn’t know he was there. Steve felt like your invisible guardian, someone who could protect you from this cruel world you both lived in. As a matter of fact, he did it a few times like when he poisoned the food of your friend who wanted nothing but to lay his dirty hands on you. Luckily, once Steve put something nasty in the man’s plate for the third time when he was coming over to your place, Steve had never seen that intruder again.

You were too naïve and kind-hearted. You thought people around you were nice and friendly, but Steve saw them for who they really were: disgusting, perverted creatures who wanted to hurt you, to twist you, to make you wretched and miserable. He needed to keep his eyes open to protect you. This was why he was following you now, he reminded himself. It had nothing to do with him admiring your knee-length red dress and your lovely legs it showed.

God, Steve wished he could lift the hem of your dress and nuzzle against your soft white panties. He wanted to inhale deeply, silently, to immerse himself in your smell. He wanted to kiss your inner thighs and caress your warm wet core with his hand, listening to your soft whimpers. He wanted you to call his name when you’d cum around his fingers, your face red with embarrassment and intense pleasure.

“Steve? Is it you?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, but he just smiled and made a few steps towards you, pretending he didn’t see you there. He was a pretty good liar, and he knew it.

“Oh, hi, Y/N. It’s nice to see you.”

You smiled in return, telling him you wanted to go to the grocery store to buy some fruits. Naturally, you didn’t mind Steve joining you since he needed to get some food too.

You had never noticed the way he watched you from afar, devouring you with his looks. Of course, you knew nothing about the medicine Steve prepared to place in your cup this evening. The only thought you had was about baking an apple pie this evening and inviting your dear friend to share it with him.

“Do you want to come over to my place? I promise to make something delicious.”

Steve smiled, following you into the store. He was prepared to have a delicious evening, indeed.


	17. Sense of normality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> It wasn’t safe out there for a woman like you, and it would never be.

Bucky didn’t get to feel like a hero often.

Of course, he had saved the world along with the Avengers and was still fighting together with Sam for the sake of humanity, but it just wasn’t the same. It felt like he was repaying a debt he owed to the world.

He owed nothing to you, the girl who ran onto him on a street at night and pleaded to help. There was a man chasing you, Bucky saw him. Judging by the way he moved and the abnormal expression he wore, it was easy to guess he was under some drugs.

“Wait inside.” Bucky said, pressing his intercom key to the panel and opening the door to the hallway.

You got there immediately, but looked at him with deep concern in your eyes. In your mind you were leaving some man you didn’t even know to deal with an ax-crazy who was after you. You didn’t know who Bucky was, what he was capable of. Were you worried about him? Maybe you were. Bucky thought it was odd.

It didn’t take him long before the man was there, throwing punches at him and acting like an enraged bull. When among other things Bucky kicked him in the ass, it rang a bell - he had certainly done it before, though he couldn’t remember when or where. It felt strangely satisfying.

Then he stopped, looking at the unconscious body laying on the ground near row of dirty trash bins. He was supposed to give a call to let someone know about it, and he did. 911 could handle this man from now on.

You couldn’t see much from the angle the glass door could give you, but when you spotted Bucky coming back he saw relief washing over you. You were happy he returned. It was very, very odd.

“Are you okay?” You asked right away once he opened the door and stepped inside. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

He watched how you trembled like a leaf. You probably had some nervous disease, but he didn’t know much about that. Bucky didn’t know much about any diseases at all since he could have none after Zola worked on him. Did he had to call the ambulance? You didn’t look good with your face red and puffy from tears.

“Thank you so, so much.” You said, smiling through tears at him. “You just saved my life. Thank you. Thank you.”

Although you were still crying, the way you looked at him made him feel better. There was so much appreciation written on your face. You kept saying lots of words of thanks, and Bucky suddenly felt like a savior. It wasn’t like no one had thanked him before, but never like that. Never so sincere. Desperate, even.

He motioned you to come to his apartment because Bucky wanted you to keep looking at him like that. Besides, you were still trembling. Where would you go like that in the middle of the night? It wasn’t wise, he thought.

“Oh no, I forgot my handbag there.” You mumbled, pressing your hand to your forehead. “My phone, my wallet.”

“Where?” Bucky cocked his head to the side.

“In that goddamn club where this guy and his friends were.” It brought you to tears, and Bucky reached for the napkin box.

“I will call there.”

There it was. That look on your face as if you saw a halo of light surrounding his figure. Bucky liked that. He liked that very much.

He took his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen, trying to remeber what the pattern he had to use. Sam was telling him something about Google maps.

It turned out to be quite easy except the fact that his huge fingers didn’t press the write buttons all the time. How did people get used to type so fast? Well, maybe he had to buy a different phone, a bigger one. His was too little.

“… yes. She think she might have forgotten it on the bar counter. There are her wallet, cellphone and set of keys.”

You were lucky the security had found your belongings quickly. It seemed like nothing was stolen.

“Can she pick them up tomorrow? Yes. Thank you.”

He saw the surprised look on your face. You thought you were going to go, but he didn’t want you leaving his apartment just now. He wanted to feel like a hero a little bit more.

“You said his friends were still there. It’s not safe to go now.” He explained calmly and saw the realization hit you. Then you wiped the tears away again, saying you didn’t even have the money to get a taxi to take you home. You didn’t live close, and walking to the other side of the city at night seemed like a horrible option. You were hopeless.

Bucky took you to the kitchen and took out a box of tea Sam brought him a month ago - it was huge, a dozen of different tea bags inside. Going throw them, he took out a camomile one. He remembered his mother saying something about it calming people down. You seemed like you needed it.

“You can stay here for the night.” He said, pushing a big white cup with hot tea closer to you. Then he filled his own, thinking you might feel odd drinking all by yourself. Having a little company was nice.

You gawked at him with your mouth open but took the cup, nonetheless. You just couldn’t believe someone was so nice to you, he thought. People wasn’t often nice to him either, so Bucky could understand your hesitation.

“It’s not safe out there.” He said, looking at the window hidden behind the curtains. “Those guys are probably looking for his friend. If they caught a glimpse of you in a taxi, they might remember its license plate and find out where you live. If you walk by yourself, it will be even worse.”

It sounded logical to him. You thought so too, probably, as you started shaking again and he had to reach out to touch your hand.

“Don’t worry. They don’t know you’re here.”

You nodded, swallowing your tears and gulping down the tea.

“I’m so sorry for all the trouble. I don’t want to impose, truly.” You muttered, keeping your head low and staring into the cup. Bucky thought your hair looked pretty in the dim light of the room.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” He said and made a sip of his tea.

He didn’t remember when was the last time someone had tea with him in the kitchen. Sometimes he went with Sam to some bars together to have a couple of beers, but it didn’t feel the same. Having a woman in his apartment was just as odd. Wanda came to help him settle in for a few times, and once Natasha visited him, too, but no other woman had ever been here. No other woman looked at him like he was a hero to her.

“I will sleep on the couch.” He said and pointed to the fridge. “You can have whatever is there.”

“Thank you, but you’re too kind.” You shook your head. “I’ve already brought you enough trouble to make you uncomfortable in your own home.”

Bucky remembered the way Sam behaved when he saw a woman he liked and curled his lips a little, his face lit up when he smiled at you. Apparently, it worked as you immediately relaxed.

“It’s no trouble at all. I’m glad you asked for my help.” It was true. “I don’t like when something like this happens.”

“I still can’t believe one time I got to go to the club I was chased out by some psycho.” You sighed, making one more sip of the tea you seemed to like. “Guess I’m never coming out of my apartment again.”

He let out a chuckle, still thinking of the way Sam would handle this conversation. Actually, he silently agreed that you shouldn’t be coming to places like that nightclub. Staying home sounded like a much better option.

For some reason an image of you living with him appeared in his mind. You were wearing a short blue robe and cooking something in the kitchen while laughing at something he said. He could feel the delicious smell of food you were making for dinner. The empty shelves in the room were filled with photos, books, porcelain figurines, and other things that you deemed important to keep there. While you were busy in the kitchen, he was setting up a new wardrobe for you because all your clothes couldn’t fit in his old one. He could still hear your lovely laugh when he made another joke about Sam and his issues with women.

Bucky admitted it would be nice.

“It will get better.” He said, unsure whether he was talking to you or rather himself. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”“I’m truly sorry for everything.”

“Don’t be. Sometimes stuff like that just happens. It’s a shame, but that’s the way things are”

You nodded at his words and finished your tea, smiling a little into your cup. Bucky felt his chest getting warm for no reason and then tried to remember where he stored anesthetics - you were so nervous you would have difficulty sleeping tonight. If he really was such a good man like you imagined him to be, he ought to help you, right?


	18. Behave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes x Reader 
> 
> Being such a brat for him wasn’t really smart of you.

“You know, princess, I wanted to fuck the shit out of you at first.” He left a little kiss on your temple while thrusting particularly hard inside you leaking cunt, and you whined, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. “But then you turned out to be such a lovely little kitten for me.”

“Y-yeah? Did you want to hurt me?” You mewled, moaning on his cock, and pouted at the man.

“I’m gonna be gentle, princess.” He promised with his middle finger massaging your cute little asshole to make you clench his cock harder. “You want me to be gentle with your sweet cunt, don’t you? Want me to make you cum on my cock, babygirl?”

Before you could respond he put his metal hand on the back of your neck and inched you closer to him, slipping his tongue between your lips. You were so fucking drunk you’d let him ravage your ass if he wanted to, and it felt so good. You had never been so submissive before, his stubborn little bitch, so watching you bouncing on his cock willingly now could make him pump his cum in you any minute. Especially when you tightened around him so nicely when he kissed you… Yeah, you most certainly had a thing for deep wet kisses while fucking.

“Bucky, please… ahh… I wanna cum, I wanna cum pleasepleaseplease.”

“I’ll let you cum, princess, if you promise me something.” He then moved his hand to your neck, clenching it slightly to make you feel how easy it’s to control you, such a helpless little girl who had no strength whatsoever to resists him. Ohh shit, your drenched pussy tried to milk him harder once he squeezed your throat a little. What a fucking sweet masochist. “No more running from me. No more of your bullshit. When I want you to spread your legs for me, you do it right away, understood?”

You whined again, tears streaming down your face when he stopped thrusting completely. Your own pathetic moves couldn’t bring you as much pleasure, and you whimpered when Bucky dropped a few gentle kisses to your heated face.

“No m-more running.” You agreed, clinging to him, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix.

“Yes, princess. You’re doing so good.” He murmured and kissed your lips again, listening to your quiet moans. “And you never ask me to wear a condom again, right? I fucking hate them.”

“B-but-”

He hit your womb with his cock so hard you let out a cry, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head.

“No. More. Condoms.” Bucky hissed at your ear, pumping his finger in and out of your ass and squeezing your neck harder. “If I want to fill your tight cunt, I’ll do it, babygirl.”

“Yes, yes, Bucky.” You whispered, struggling to force the words out of your mouth with the man’s hand wrapped around your throat. He could see how much you got off on his domination over you, his stupid little slut.

Shit, he hated how headstrong you were, never listening to him, always having your own pathetic opinion although he was much more experienced than you, wiser than you. You just begged to be shown your place, didn’t you? He wanted to make it hard for you, but once he poured enough alcohol in your glass you became such an adorable little kitten Bucky couldn’t force himself to hurt you. You were so sweet, kissing him willingly, swirling that cute little tongue of yours in his mouth. How could he do anything but make love to you?

“You’re being good, princess.” He took off his hand from your throat, but added a second finger to your ass. “You know I love you, right? Do you love me too?”

“Yes, I… ahh... l-love you so much, Bucky.” You’re still clinging to him adorably, shaking your hips on top of him and kissing his lips. “I’m s-so sorry for being bitchy.”

“It’s alright, babygirl.” Gripping your hips, he starts thrusting again into your abused core. Bucky loved that expression on your lovely face when you look like you fucking lost your mind from pleasure. “I’m gonna look after you. I’m gonna make sure you’ll be a good girl from now on.”


	19. Rotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers x princess!Reader
> 
> “The princess will marry the very first beggar who comes to the castle gates,” the King said.
> 
> P.S. This was inspired by König Drosselbartfairytale.

Staring at the enormously huge black gates separating the castle from the outer world, you pulled the grey cloth over your head, covering your beautiful shiny hair. Before this morning you wore a tiara of your mother, and your dresses were made from brocade, silk and cashmere, not this rough wool that itched so badly and irritated your gentle skin. But now the only posession you were allowed to keep was that little cameo of your mother laying in the pocket of your simple grey dress.

The princess is obstinate, capricious, the King said. She thinks too high of herself. She rejects and ridicules all honourable men coming to ask for her hand in marriage. She is rotten to the core. She doesn’t deserve to be the crown princess of the kingdom.

Locked away, abandoned by your teachers, refused to be engaged to any decent prince or lord, you were kept confined to your chamber for several years. Occasionally, you were allowed to visit the celebrations and balls held in the castle only to be laughed at your lack of manners and education by the children of the King and their entourage. You considered them your friends once, but those times had long passed.

You were the only child of the Queen, the true ruler of these lands, who got married the second time after an unfortunate death of her first husband, your father. She didn’t give the new King an heir, but he had a handful of his own children from his past marriages. All of them, except his oldest one who stayed to rule the country of his father under the watchful eye of royal advisors, were brought to your kingdom. They are your sisters and brothers, the King said.

They were the ones who would take your place once the King found an opportunity to get rid of you, the true successor to the Queen.

All the men who came to ask for your hand were told you had no desire to meet them, and then, after the brief encounter with the King, they were sent away. You watched them, enraged by this unfair treatment, and their corteges to leave in haste, disappearing behind the black gates. You were never allowed to leave your chamber at these times, forced to look out the window at those princes and lords. If only they knew.

“Bow your head in front of your lawfully wedded husband.” One of the guards demanded harshly, and you snapped out of your thoughts, looking at the huge man with wide shoulders, dressed in rags, his face hidden by the hood he wore.

The stranger was twice bigger than the guards surrounding you, and you felt rather intimidated in his presence. Despite his dirty clothes and wooden shoes, he didn’t look like a beggar to you. If he was truly so poor, how come his body was so big and strong? No, the man wasn’t a beggar. He was a bandit.

It would only make sense for the King to get rid of you, but you hoped he would keep his word as he promised to give you to the very first beggar who came to the castle gates. Apparently, he decided against it. The bandit who stood in front of you would either kill you or sell you to a brothel. If he was paid to end you, you hoped he would at least do it fast.

You bowed your head in front of the stranger who was now your husband and moved forward when the guards pushed you to him. The man said nothing, heading to the gates as if he didn’t even care whether you followed him or not. Biting your lip, you came after him, watching your ugly wooden shoes.

However, once you stepped behind the gates, you saw there were dozens of people, their clothes dirty, tattered, and heavily patched, their faces grim - many lacked teeth and some even an eye - their expression turning wicked when they saw you coming after the stranger. Who were they? Beggars? Bandits? Villagers? You didn’t know, but feared for your life as they started shouting loudly upon seeing you, and then you saw them throwing something rotten and smelling badly at you.

Why were they doing it? What have you done to them?

“WHORE!” The crowd yelled. “ARROGANT BITCH!”

A boy no older than ten threw a piece of rock at you, and it struck your arm painfully, making you yelp. He was encouraged loudly by the others, and you realized they would beat you to death. Why? What have you done to be so hated? You were a prisoner in your family castle. No one loved you. No one cared for you. No one came to console you even in the darkest of days. Why did you deserve to be punished for something you had never done? Why were you the rotten one when the sons and daughters of the King were spoiled beyond imagination?

Before the next rock hit your head, you saw the stranger shielding you with a big piece of wood he had taken from some man. Holding it like a shield, your husband grasped your shoulders with the other hand and started fighting his way through the crowd as you clinged to him, afraid to raise your head. All you heard were angry shouts and screams of pain as the man crashed their bones with the shield in his hand, the sound of cracking disgusting and frightening. People tried to clench your dress, beat you, snatch away the cloth covering your head, but the stranger was quick to push people away, and soon you two were running somewhere, your vision clouded with tears.

He held your hand in his until you reached the forest behind the meadow, far away from the castle and all those scary people who dirtied your simple woolen clothes and coloured your arms black and blue. Luckily, you were mostly unharmed just like your saviour, the man who hadn’t uttered a single word still. At this point you guessed he might be deaf or lacking his tongue - you heard maids talking about the soldiers of the King cutting tongues of the ones who talked against him. But maybe the stranger just didn’t want to speak to you. He probably thought you were an arrogant princess, humbled by your pride and haughtiness.

“Thank you.” You whispered to him, and the man turned face to you, his beautiful blue eyes watching you intently. “Thank you for saving me.”

The tears had long dried out on your face, but your eyes were still a bit red, your voice raspy. Running in the wooden shoes made your feet hurt so bad as if you were running barefoot at all.

When your newly wed husband came closer to you, you flinched involuntary and made a step back, staring at his strangely attractive dirty face, his dark blonde disheveled hair and beard.

“You’re safe with me.”

You blinked, unsure what to say to him in return. His low husky voice made you tremble a little, but if he told you the truth, he was going to take care of you. You hurriedly averged your eyes and bowed your head again, waiting for him to continue walking. You didn’t dare to talk to him once more.

Your had been travelling by foot for what felt like hours, and you felt grateful for the dress you were given as it was lighter with just a few layers of fabric. Your wooden shoes, however, bruised your skin so much that they were slowly filling with blood. Nonetheless, you kept walking even with blisters covering your feet as your husband moved forward without a stop through the forest. Was he living here? Otherwise you didn’t know how he navigated through the woods.

“You’re slowing us down.” You winced when you raised your head and saw him furrowing at you, standing a few feet away.

“I am sorry.” You muttered, knowing you could hardly speed up with your legs hurting so much as if you walked into the fire.

The stranger squinted, coming closer, “Take off your shoes.”

You complied without saying a word, showing him your bruised feet. Was he going to complain you were a shirker, unable to even walk? Maybe he had it on his mind, but he stayed silent, ripping the hem of your dress when you gasped and wiped the blood away. Then he had you seated on a falling tree and bandaged your feet so gently you gawked at him openly. You felt tears shimmering in your eyes at his kindness. He cared.

“I will carry you from here.” Your husband said, wiping away the sweat from his dirty forehead. “We’ll make a halt soon.”

“I can walk myself.” You said when he loomed over you, his strong hands gripping your under your lower back. “Please!”

“No, you can’t.” He grumbled, shooting you a look that forced you to keep your mouth shut. “You are my wife now, and you are going to listen to what I say.”

You squeezed your eyes shut when the man lifted you in the air and hurried forward, moving carefully so you wouldn’t get struck by the branches. Your body ached, your legs hurt so hard you were ready to cry, your eyelids growing heavy. Oddly, the man’s presence wasn’t as intimidating as before, his body heat slowly warming you and lulling you to sleep since he slowed down a bit and kept going forward cautiously. You decided to close your eyes just a little bit…

__________________

When you opened your eyes next time, you were tucked in a bed that smelled like old sheep wool - your maid, a girl from the village, had the same scent when she returned after visiting her parents. Even though this bed was three times smaller and tougher then yours, you enjoyed laying there under the dark warm blanket - or whatever it was - and listening to the cracking fire inside the stone oven. Your poor feet were terribly sore, and laying on bed brought you so much comfort.

However, when you were fully awoke, you shifted on the bed nervously and glanced over the house, finding the stranger sitting near the crudely made wooden table, a clay pot in his hands. He lifted his hood, and now you could see his matted blonde hair and dirty face covered in mud and what looked like ashes. Was it his house he brought you to? It was very small and looked like it was abandoned some time ago, but you couldn’t be sure. He had no servants to take care of his house, so maybe it always looked like that.

“You’re awake.” He said, turning his face to you. “Don’t stand up. Your legs are no good.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, knowing he was perfectly right since it still hurt you to move.

“Next time you need to tell me when you’re in pain.”

“Why?” Curling your lips in a grim smile, you got under blanket again, covering yourself up to your chin. “Why does my pain bother you?”

The man narrowed his eyes down at you and set the pot aside, putting his elbows on the table tiredly.

“You are my wife. Your pain bothers me, and my pain should bother you.”

“I see.” You averted your eyes from his face lit up by the light coming from the oven. You didn’t know much about marriage since no one considered you to be ever wed. It was like this, then? Or was it because your husband was a peasant and not an honourable man? There certainly was differences, but you had never expected a beggar to be so kind.

He wasn’t a beggar, though, of that you were sure.

“What name do I bear now?” You asked him, watching his face growing confused. “Do you… do you have a name, sir?”

“You bear the name of Rogers.” He sounded oddly proud, but you only sighed - now you lost even the name your father gave you.

You were the beggar’s wife, not the princess living in high castle - you would work hard till your hands bled; give birth to unfortunate children forced to live in poverty, who wouldn’t know how to read or write; you’d starve and beg, and then die young. This is what your maid told you how the people of her village lived - despite being farmers, the lands they worked on were poor, and most of the harvest was taken away to feed the ones living in a castle.

You didn’t even have the land to work on as you saw the forest through the crack in the door. This hut was in the middle of the woods, probably.

“I made a salve for your legs. Let me put it on.”

When he stood up from the bench, you shivered and took your eyes elsewhere, moving higher on what you supposed was an improvised pillow. The stranger sat on the other side of the bed and moved your blanket, showing your dirty feet with dry blood covering them. Then, as if he remembered something, he went somewhere behind the oven and pulled a jug with a slightly cracked neck, soaking a rag in it. Once he squeezed it and brought it to your legs, you winced in pain, but stayed silent.

The stanger had been kind to you beyound your understanding.

“So, were the rumors true?” He asked once he wiped your feet cleen and took a little jar with what you assumed was the salve.

“Forgive me, but there are too many rumors for me to remember.”

“The one that says you are so arrogant you don’t want to meet any of the men who come to ask for your hand in marriage. Watching them being sent away, you sit in your room in the high tower and ridicule them all.”

You wanted to laugh bitterly at his words, but the knot in your throat didn’t let you utter a sound. Was this what the King and his children had been telling to your people, feeding them lies for years? The princess whose spirit was too high to look at those she deemed lower than her. The one born with a silver spoon in her mouth who didn’t care whether her people starved and died from diseases. What a perfect little picture the King had constructed in the minds of others.

“If you believe it, did you take me as your wife to teach me a leason, then? To punish me?” You whispered and clenched your teeth - every touch to your legs made them burn as if the man’s fingers were covered with flames.

“No.”

His ridiculously beautiful blue eyes bore into you with such intensity it made you want to grab the blanket and pull it over your head to hide from him. Oddly, you thought his face looked noble behind that layer of dirt on his skin. He didn’t look like any of those who you met behind the castle gates.

“In truth, I’ve seen you up there in the tower once, looking out the window. But you didn’t laugh at us. You cried.”

You raised your head and stilled, watching the man anxiously. No, he wasn’t a beggar. They had never been admitted to the castle.

“How could you see me up there? My room is too high.” Your hands trembled a little, and then you let out a hiss of pain when the man rubbed some salve onto your skin.

“I have a good eyesight.”

“How did you know it was me, then?”

“Because I’ve seen you before.”

Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest at his words. Who was he? Who was the man sitting on your bed?

“Were you a part of a cortege of a man who came to ask for my hand?” You asked nervously, glancing at him rubbing more of that medicine that smelled like herbs into your feet.

The stranger nodded. “Then… where have you seen me? Was it before I was locked in the castle by the King?”

“Yes. I saw you when the old King, rest his soul, had been alive.”

“I see. I must have been a child, then.” You gave him a weak smile, remembering those times when you were still the lovely little girl, your mother always keeping you close to her despite the royal etiquette. It was the time when you still travelled, sometimes even outside of your own country. He probably saw you during one of your trips with your parents. “Have you been a part of the court? Maybe the one who served it?”

“Yes.” His answer was noncommittal, and it only steered your interest. Did he lost everything just like you? Was he stripped of his titles? It must had happened quite some time ago since his big hands were rough, work-weary. Maybe he was the knight or someone who belonged to the army.

Knowing he was becoming agitated, you decided to stop there. You had no desire to test patience of the one who had only ever been kind to you.

“I only have one question left, sir. How should I call you?”

He smirked, tilting his head to the side.

“Steve. My name is Steve Rogers.”

Steve Rogers. This name rang a bell. He could see you growing confused, wracking your brains, desperately searching for any memory that could give you the answer. Steve Rogers. Steve…

Stevie. Prince Steven Grant Rogers. The little boy who was so unhealthy pale he looked like a ghost. He was skinny and small despite being older than you. You knew his mother had been sick for many years, confined to her chambers, and, sadly, her boy took after her. You remember the whispers behind your back when you visited him for the first time as he laid in bed, watching you with his enormously big blue eyes.

“It can’t be.” You gawked at the man who was bigger than anyone you had ever seen, his arms musculed, his shoulders wider than the ones of the King’s executioner. Little Stevie could never grow so big - you remembered his thin, strange body well. “You can’t be prince Steve.”

“I’m not. I am King Steven now, _little girl_.”

Oh, you remembered you called him a little boy that made him pout at you. There was no one standing close to you at the moment when you bended over to him and talked quietly not to tire the prince. But how could he become so strong? Even his father wasn’t as big as him now. Why was King Steven dressed like a beggar? Why did he take you in the middle of the woods, pretending it was his house?

“When I reached the age of 18, I’ve met a wandering mage who cured my illness. His charms changed my body, made me what I had to become if my mother didn’t fell sick before giving birth to me. Do you like what you see?”

You felt your cheeks burning when you realized you were staring at him shamelessly and averted your eyes.

“You look stronger than any man I’ve seen, Your Highness.”

“I know, little bird.” Smirking, he finally finished rubbing the salve into your skin and set the jar aside, caressing your feet. “As I fulfilled my promise to you, I came to claim what’s rightfully mine.”

“What promis- AH!

His gaze grew dark as you stared at him wide-eyed, and his hand gripped one of your feet painfully, making you yelp as he pressed his finger to the blister. He didn’t like you forgetting about something important, but you could swear you remembered nothing of a promise.

"I gave you my word one day I’d become better and then come to ask for your hand, my dearest. You said if it were to happen, you would choose me among the other suitors. Do you remember now?” There was something dark in his voice as he spoke, and you nodded immediately to make him ease his grip on your leg. Steve sent you a satisfied smile, caressing your foot gently with his calloused fingers. “I’ve came to you several years ago, but you refused to see me and sent me away. I caught a glimpse of you in the window, and then I realized something wasn’t right. I’ve sent a few of my people to become the servants in the castle to learn the truth.”

Strangely, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted. King Steven knew you weren’t rotten to the core. He knew you weren’t a spoiled princess who refused to leave the castle to see her miserable people, suffering under the heavy taxation laws imposed by the new King. Steve took you here not to make you learn a lesson how to be behave, but to hide you from prying eyes.

As he wiped the tears streaming down your face, you realized he sat much closer to you now - King Steven smelled like sweat and pine trees.

“When the King ordered to give you to the first beggar who would come to the castle gates, I had already sneaked into your lands, my beloved. If not his order, my people would take you away soon.” He dropped a kiss to your forehead, touching the locks of your hair with his fingers.

“But the King would find out who stole me.” You whispered. “He’d demand you to bring me back.”

“Five thousand soldiers are waiting for my command to march to the King’s castle. Why would I leave him the kingdom that belongs to you, sweetheart?” Steve smiled, and you saw something dangerous lingering behind his eyes, something that made you shiver and draw a shaky breath from you. “If I gave you such an army, what would you do with it?”

For a second you felt like your body was thrown right into the fire, burning your flesh to the bones. The tears stopped as you clenched your teeth.

“Burn the castle to ashes. Kill the King. Kill his children. Kill their entourage. Kill all of them who had abandoned and humiliated me.”

You didn’t know when the anger rose in your chest and took a hold of your tongue, make you spit venom and imagine your brothers and sisters scream and plead for their lives, but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed every second of it when you thought of their heads on spikes for the crows to peck and the entire kingdom to see.

No one had come to your rescue for years when you prayed to be saved, taken away from a place that became your prison. No matter how much you asked God to answer you, he had been silent, and your learnt you were left alone in the world where no one wanted you to be treated fair. Then so be it. If no one took pity on a little miserable child pleading for help, you wouldn’t show mercy to the ones who had been torturing you for years.

You hadn’t seen how King Steven face changed as he watched you, his expression growing more sinister and poisonous, but you felt his lips on yours when he claimed your mouth possessively and his fingers clawed at your shoulders.

“I will cut the King’s head off and tie it to the mane of your horse, my beloved. Would you like it to be your wedding gift?”

“Yes. _Yes!_ ” You cried as he shushed you, pressing your head to his chest and caressing your hair like a lover would.

“ _Then it’s as good as done_.”


	20. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> As a granddaughter of one of HYDRA’s operatives, you are hunted down just like anyone who has something to do with the organization. You know the Soldier is coming for you.

Backing away from a tall muscular man with a metal arm shining in the dim light, you gasped, watching him advance on you with a dark expression on his face. You knew him - he was the infamous Bucky Barnes, one of the former Assets of the organization. You had never seen him personally and only learnt about him when he escaped. That day your grandfather, one of HYDRA’s operatives, was all blood and thunder as he screamed at the agents on the top of his mighty voice for the loss of one of the most useful assassins of the organization.

After that everything started falling apart. HYDRA was disintegrated after the Avengers started a witch hunt, and most people involved went into hiding. Although your grandfather, one of the leaders of the organization, did everything to protect both you and himself, you knew one day the Soldier would return. A part of you had accepted this a long time ago, knowing you would pay for everything your grandfather did. Of only your parents were still there. Maybe then you wouldn’t end up in the arms of HYDRA’s vile men and pay for something you had never done or agreed to.

You felt the cold wall behind your back, reaching the end of the room, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the Soldier with Beretta in his hand. Gulping down, you stared in horror at his stony expression, knowing he had no sympathy for whoever was involved with HYDRA. You would die. You would die any moment once he lifted his arm with a gun.

“Could you kiss me?” You whispered as he came closer, your body trembling like a leaf. “I have never kissed in my entire life.”

The man tilted his head to the side, watching you biting your lips. He probably thought you went insane, scared to death by his sudden appearance in the safehouse you were held. Had you really gone mad?

“Please, before you shoot me.” You asked in despair, tears running down your cheeks. “I want to know how the kiss feels.”

You said the truth, you had never been kissed before, never been touched by a man, never loved anyone, and it was the only thing you regretted. What was it like to be kissed? Was it truly as wonderful as all the books and movies promised, making you feel butterflies in your stomach? Was it unpleasant? You’d prefer to do it with someone you loved, but you didn’t have much of a choice. You’d be really lucky to get to know this feeling at all before the Soldier murdered you.

As he came so close you could feel his calm breath on your skin, you lowered your gaze, afraid to look him in his cold eyes lacking any emotion. You didn’t expect him to lay his metal hand on your shoulder, making you move your head up a bit when he closed that little distance between you, touching your lips with his.

He was gentle. His touch was warm, and you felt how soft his lips were, pressing into yours as he caressed your hair tenderly. It was pleasant. Kissing felt as nice as books claimed. Never doing it before was worth regretting, indeed, if even the world’s deadliest assassin’s kiss brought you so much pleasure.

You didn’t want it to end, but the Soldier partied from you with a soft sigh, and you closed your eyes when his arm moved from your hair to your neck. His touch was turning suffocating, and you whimpered quietly, tears streaming down again. You prayed it to end quickly. You deserved a quick death, you hoped.

As the world turned black, the last thing you heard was the Soldier’s calm breathing.

____________

When you opened your eyes, it was so dark you couldn’t see the ceiling as you stared into the black mass surrounding you, trying to understand what was happening. Moving your hand to your right, you looked for the light switch of a lamp on your nightstand - you asked for it in every safehouse you had been placed. It was one of the few routine things you had pleasure to have since you went in hiding.

You were always in hiding even before the Avengers learnt about HYDRA’s infiltration into S.H.I.E.L.D.

As the light flicked, you stared at the room you had never been before, watching drawers and empty shelves with rising concern. There was a table and a chair to your right, and then you saw a huge metal door as if your were put in a prison cell. It didn’t look like a safehouse at all.

You sensed a slight movement to your left, and your head snapped as you saw a man sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. Although the light wasn’t reaching him much to let you see him properly, you remembered those long disheveled hair and piercing gaze of cold blue eyes. It was the Soldier.

Suddenly, you remembered as he broke into the last safehouse you were brought to, seemingly killing every agent who was placed there to protect you. You remembered as he kissed you before everything went black.

“If I’m dead, why are you here with me?” You whispered, watching him staring back at you as you crawled back and took a pillow in your arms, pressing it into your belly.

“You aren’t dead.” The man said quietly as he stood up from the chair, moving slowly to you, hiding behind the pillow as if it were a shield. “You are safe.”

You didn’t agree. Nowhere was safe for you, especially when you were captured by the ones hunting HYDRA down. Your grandfather made it clear - once you were taken, no one would try saving you. In fact, those who protected you before would turn against you since you’d seen too much to be left alive in the arms of Avengers. You were doomed either way.

Maybe the heroes would be kind enough to let you die quickly without much pain. A bullet in your skull would do.

“When is the Interrogation?” You asked quietly, hugging a pillow to have at least some comfort. You needed someone to snuggle against so badly, but the only one in the room was the assassin sent to murder you at one point or other. If only your parents were here. A friend. Anyone who had been kind to you once.

“There will be no interrogation.” He said as he sat down on your bed close to you, his hand near your feet as you shivered, too frightened to look at the man. “No one knows you are here, princess.”

You raised your eyes at him, blinking the tears away. Did he say the truth? No interrogation? You suspected you had no vital information the Avengers didn’t already know, but you thought you would be tortured as most prisoners like you had been to squeeze every bit of knowledge you had. Yet if no one but the Soldier knew about you being here…

You wept, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand.

“My father used to call me that. ‘My princess’.” You smiled weakly, clinging to the pillow even more. You needed someone’s warmth so bad.

Soldat’s bared hand found yours as he caressed it gently, making you let go of your improvised kevlar. His touch was pleasant, and you thought of his kiss back then. You had never thought someone frightening like him could ever be so tender with a woman.

“They’ll find me, anyway.” Your whisper was barely audible. “They always did.”

Was it a ghost of a smile you saw on his face?

“I am better at hiding than them.” He brushed away the strands of hair out of your face, but took his arm away when he sensed you getting scared, your body getting tense again. “You will always be safe with me.”

The Soldier sounded almost like a lover. That is, you thought a lover would sound like that. He didn’t look like all those men you saw in the countless romcoms with heart eyes, but something in him was both unsettling and drawing you to him. Oddly, he wasn’t as cold and menacing as before despite the dark glint you saw in his eyes.

You thought how miserable you had become, searching for a little warmth and love from people unable to give it anyone at all. None of the agents sent to you were willing to talk even if your grandfather didn’t forbid them. All conversations felt forced, not genuine, and soon you dropped your attempts to get to know any of those people better. But you weren’t allowed to leave the house on your own even before the witch hunt. You had no friends, no people who wouldn’t be involved with HYDRA one way or another.

It’s not safe for you, your grandfather said. Anyone out there could be an enemy of the organization, meaning yours too. Because of that, you had spent many years in pretty much total isolation, living behind the doors of your secured home where no one particularly cared about anything except your physical wellbeing. Well, it could have been much worse, you knew it, but it didn’t make your life any easier. You were still a prisoner. Maybe one day your grandfather wanted you to get married to some HYDRA operative to strengthen his own position within the organization, and that’s why he bothered to keep you.

Nevertheless, you knew little about the outside world and human relationships. You could only experience it through reading books and watching movies, craving for warmth so desperately you were ready to ask the first person you saw from the outside of the organization to kiss you. Ironically, he belonged to the same kind of people who guarded you all those years. Or so you thought.

“I can’t live like that.” You whispered, lowering your head and grasping the blanket in your hands. “This isn’t life… Having no family, no friends. I’m all alone. I don’t even remember the last time I hugged anyone.”

“You can hug me.”

Raising your eyes, you saw him watching you. The Soldier didn’t try coming closer to you, apparently, giving you a choice. Why was he doing that? All of that? Why taking you here and not finishing you off like all others who had something to do with the organization? You had hard time believing the Soldat pitied you.

Yet here you were, brought God knows where, staying in one room with the man who didn’t hurt you and even tried giving you some comfort. Maybe he was tricking you, but he had nothing to gain from it.

Whatever. Your life wouldn’t end peacefully, anyway.

You reached to him, snuggling against Soldier’s body in pathetic attempt to feel anything, throwing your arms around his waist. For a second you thought he would slap your hands away, but instead you felt him caressing your back carefully, his flesh arm touching the top of your head. You still remembered your father doing it when you were awoken by the thunder and trembled in bed. Soldier’s body was as warm as his.

Squeezing your eyes shut to stop tears from falling, you hid your face in his chest, finally feeling that warmth you were searching for. As the Soldier craddled you in his arms, you felt… safe? Protected? Slowly, your body was relaxing against his as you exhaled loudly, his fingers buried in your hair.

“I can be your friend.” The man said calmly, his eyes dark, but not scary. “If you don’t have anyone else, you can have _me_.”

You whimpered, your head almost crushing to his chest as you clinged to him.

“I can give you things you want to have.”

“These are not things.”

“Whatever you want, princess. You just have to ask.” His low, husky voice should have scared you, but listening to the words you had always wanted to hear made you almost hopeful. Was he serious? Did Soldier really want to be the one close to you? You supposed the Avengers wouldn’t be too happy to learn about it. Maybe that’s why he hid you here.

Was he really taking pity on you?

“Could you kiss me on the forehead, please?” You mumbled and sensed him bowing his head closer as his hair brushed against your face. He then left a kiss on your forehead just as you asked him, and you finally cried, clenching his clothes to bring him even closer to you. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“ _You will always be safe with me_.” You heard him whisper above your head.


	21. Fragile and ferocious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> knight!Steve x Reader
> 
> Ten years ago you left your Commander to die in the forests of Triskelion. Now it was your time to pay him with your life.

“Why did you leave me there?” His hoarse voice sounded distorted with pain, and you froze on the spot, afraid to turn back and see the one you had been waiting for so long.

It was true. Steve Rogers had somehow made it through that night when a vast many-headed hydra attacked your squad, smashing half of your warriors like flies. You saw his dead body in a pull of blood yourself, but now he was standing behind your back. You could never mistake his voice for someone else’s.

Clenching your fists, you exhaled loudly and gathered yourself, knowing you had to meet your end with dignity. If Steve Rogers were still alive, you deserved death. You left the man you worshipped laying between bodies of dead soldiers on the ground and escaped, trying to save yourself. You left the one who brought you to the squad, gave you a sword, trained you, and shielded your back. You left the one and only you loved with all your heart; the one who had truly mattered to you.

You betrayed him just like all other warriors. If he came here to kill you just like most of the ones who came out alive that night, you wouldn’t fight him. You deserved it.

Slowly turning to face him, you stared at Steve Rogers in black armor, his face even more handsome than you remembered, eyes of peculiar dark blue shade, a glint of madness in them as he gazed upon you, a traitor who left him to die in the forests of Triskelion. He stood there, towering over you, his gaze dark and resenting while you openly admired how healthy he looked, his skin a very light shade of pink, his beard cut short, his dark blonde hair shining in the light of a few candles. His cold beauty was striking.

“Why did you leave me there?” He asked in a dangerously low voice, coming closer, and you held yout breath.

Steven Grant Rogers, the Sword and Shield of His Majesty King Alexander, was alive and well. Ten years had passed since you left the forests of Triskelion, thinking he had died that night when Hydra’s gigantic tail hit him and made him fall to the ground, his lifeless body covered in his own blood laying along mutilated corpses of your fellow warriors. It was a year ago when you first heard of your commander coming back to avenge himself. Jasper Sitwell was the first one he murdered - that man had always been a coward and a traitor even before you set your foot into that damned forest, and only King’s protection had saved him from his own former allies. Then Broke Rumlow had payed with his own head for leaving his Captain to die, and after him it was Jack Rollins. Natasha, your one and only friend who you still kept in contact with after all those years, went in hiding shortly after that. You prayed for her to stay alive - she was the last one to leave that dark place, helping the ones who could barely walk to flee the forest.

Steve Rogers avenged himself more than ten times, taking the lives of the ones who fought side by side with him, but it wasn’t enough. He would kill you all, you knew it.

But he had pity on you, hadn’t he? You were one of the last ones he came to, giving you time to sort things out, and you were thankful to him for that.

“When I came to you, you had already stopped breathing.” You whispered, looking into his eyes, his pupils dilated. “I told everyone you were dead.”

You wanted to say you were sorry. You wanted to cry and beat your head against the stony floor of your chamber, asking for his forgiveness, but you couldn’t force the words out of your mouth as if your tongue gave out. It didn’t matter as he would never forgive you. You would never forgive yourself, too.

Ten years had passed, spent in misery, despair, and self-hate. You carved words of prayer on your arms; you abandoned your sword and learnt the magic to heal the ones who needed it; you found enough followers to built a place where you looked after the most vulnerable and poor, but nothing had helped. You could never get rid of that ugly, disgusting feeling somewhere deep in your chest that twisted you. You had long passed the point of no return.

Maybe Steve knew that. Maybe he was giving you a chance to make things right at last.

Carefully getting down on your knees, you bowed your head in front of him so that the back of your neck was open. Once Steve Rogers lowered his sword, it all would be finally over. You would pay the price of your betrayal and find your piece.

You stilled, looking at your knees hidden by the rough fabric of your dress and waiting for the man above you to pull his glowing sword from its sheath. For some reason, he was slow to move. Did he want to torture you before finishing you off? You heard that Rumlow’s body looked like it was eaten by an enourmous beast. Shivering at the thought, you tried to calm yourself down. You deserved it. You deserved it all.

Suddenly, Steve dropped to his knees and cupped your face with his rough, calloused palms, moving your head to have a look at your watering eyes. You were forced to look at him as he moved his finger to your lower lip, watching the tears finally falling off your heated face. He was so close you could feel his calm breath on your skin, and you cheeks were burning at the thought how handsome he was. If only you had taken him with you, maybe one day you could gather enough courage to tell him of your feelings you had harboured for so long.

“Why did you do this to me, my love?” He asked quietly, and you stared at him in disbelief, thinking you somehow misheard him.

What? My love?

No, no, it wasn’t true. He didn’t love you. You knew he was devoted to his country more than he could ever be to some woman. It was a part of the reason why you had never voiced your feelings, knowing you would only get in the way of him protecting his people. It was unfair to let your love burden Steve, and you had never talked about it. He was the hero his country needed desperately, and he couldn’t possibly waiste his time on something so unworty as love to you.

Trembling slightly in his hands, you decided you had misheard his last words.

“What I have done to you is deplorable and inexcusable.” You answered in a quiet, shaky voice. “Please, allow me to pay you with my life, Commander.”

He smelled of iron and sweat when he leaned closer to you, his mouth clamining yours. As you gasped in shock, Steve immediately took advantage of it to slip his tongue between your lips. Your knees got weaker as he addictively invaded all your senses. For a moment you thought it was a product of your imagination, but his kiss was so possessive and angry you curled your toes at this foreign feeling, touching his hands with yours.

Finally, you didn’t misheard him.

Heat rose from your stomach to your chest, and your body oddly tingled when Captain finally parted from you, allowing you to breathe though you weren’t sure you remembered how to do it. Did Commander feel something for you? Was it just his way to make it more painful for you before he would kill you? In the end, woman were often raped on the battlefield. Maybe he wanted you to pay more than you anticipated.

“I will take your life.” He said, his gaze heavy and dark. “But not the way you think. I will take everything you can give me, everything you have.”

“My body, Commander?” You asked, deeply ashamed at enjoying what was supposed to be your punishment, the retribution for what you had done to him.

“ _Everything_ , my love.”


	22. Your place chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers x Reader (High School AU)
> 
> You suffer in the arms of America’s golden boy, the one who has been bullying you for years.

“Steve! Steve, it h-hurts!” You moaned weakly beneath him, your beatiful prom dress raised up to your waist while Steve kept thrusting his huge cock into your ass mercilessly. “Please, p-pull it out!”

But he didn’t listen, smacking your ass with his rough palm in return and filling you full, leaning closer and pressing you into the soft fabric of the sofa standing in his room. You could feel his angry breath just above your ear as he pounded into you. Unable to move as he pinned you down with his muscular body, you moaned and cried as Steve kept destroying your asshole.

It took just one dance with your classmate who complimented how good you looked tonight. You thought Steve wouldn’t see as he went out to have a few words with Bucky and Sam.

“Little bitch.” Steve whispered to your ear, grabbing you by the throat and inhaling your smell as he buried his nose in your hair. “Seems like I’ve been treating you too nice, yeah? Did you forget who are you?”

You closed your eyes as shame bubbled up inside you. No, you didn’t. Although today was the prom and you weren’t much of high school student anymore, you were still under Steve Roger’s thumb, and God, provocating him was among the most stupid things you had ever done. You wouldn’t get rid of him so easily, you knew it.

“Shit.” He growled, closing his eyes for a moment as he enjoyed how you squeezed his cock with your little puckered hole, trying to push him out. “If I knew your ass feels so good, I’d be fucking you like that every day. You enjoy it, huh? You like to take me with your asshole, you fucking slut?”

But before you could reply he clamped his hand over your mouth, and you felt tears gather in your eyes as you tried to kick him - of course, to no avail as he used all his strength to push you down, preventing you from getting away. The lewd sound of his body slapping against yours made your face burn in shame. Fuck, why was it suddenly starting to feel good? You could feel pleasure mixing with pain as Steve pinned you to the sofa, pressing his hot lips to your temple. Shit, shit, shit, you shouldn’t enjoy it. This bastard was forcing himself on you, and you couldn’t possibly get pleasure from it.

“Steve, please!” You let out a high-pitched moan. “I didn’t do anything! Ahhh, I d-didn’t!”

“Oh yeah?” He growled lowly above your ear, bucking his hips and drawing more moans from you. “Then why did you fucking smile when he put his hands on you? You think I didn’t see? Wanna say you wouldn’t jump at him because he’s nicer to you than I am, huh?”

He rolled you on your side, thrusting into your ass, his hand now on your sensitive clit. Fuck, it did start feeling good. The bastard knew perfectly how to play your body to make you squirm beneath him.

It was so stupid of you to dance with a guy, knowing how possesive Rogers was. It got a bit better at the end of your last year when he seemed to calm down around you, but you just had to ruin it like that. Was that dance worth it? No, but the feeling of being free from Steve just for a few minutes probably was.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked in a low voice, biting your ear as he stilled inside you.

“You, Steve.” You mumbled, wishing you could bite your tongue off.

“Say it louder.”

“YOU!” You cried out as he suddenly thrusted particularly hard, his balls slapping against your buttocks. “I’m… ahh… sorry. I’m sorry for what I’ve done, Steve!”

You didn’t see his smug smirk, but felt his hand tightening around your chest, pressing you even closer to him as he worked his fingers inside your leaking cunt, curling them and massaging your tightening walls. Oh yeah, he was fucking delighted to see you submissive again, moaning like a little slut you were just for him. A part of him was still angry at you, accepting someone else’s hand, but seeing you like this, a sobbing, boneless mess, really stroked his ego.

Rolling your clit between his fingers again, he kept fucking your ass until he felt his cock throbbing, breathing loudly and barely withholding from moaning. You sobbed softly, curling your toes at the unexpected mix of pleasure and pain, giving in to the feeling. It was so fucking good when he suddenly pumped his cum inside your ass, filling you up as he rode out his orgasm, and you let out a pathetic moan, tears shining in the corners of your eyes. Steve froze beside you, keeping his cock inside while still playing with your pussy, not letting you cum yet. You huffed, but didn’t voice your protest, knowing he would just snap at you.

“You got it, kitten?” He whispered to you, feeling contented with your reaction. “No one’s touching you but me. What did you expect to happen, anyway? You thought I’d let this guy have you?”

“No, I didn’t… I just wanted to dance.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Steve lowered his lips to your neck, and you tightened around his fingers. “You wanted to have some freedom when I wasn’t around. Well, you don’t have it, got it? You’re my kitten, and I’m gonna keep you.”

You fell silent, listening to his heartbeat slowly returning to normal as Steve snuggled closer to you, his cuddling habits taking over what was left of his anger. Your ass still ached painfully, but it was becoming better when he finally pulled out, drawing his hand away from your embarrassingly wet pussy. Steve didn’t let you cum, and you bit down on your lower lip. Despite the pain, you wanted him to fuck your sloppy cunt so damn bad.

Suddenly, he moved up, and you glanced at him, leaving the sofa. The next moment you were grasping his hand involuntarily to keep him close to you.

Steve almost purred at this gesture.

“I’m gonna take care of your sweet ass, kitten, and then I will eat you out because you’re being a good girl for me now. You like the plan, huh?” He smirked, watching you getting shy, but still eager for all of it to happen. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”


	23. At all costs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve x Reader (Survival Games AU)
> 
> What was the reason to keep fighting when there was no end to all of this? Yet every time somebody chased you with a gun you were ready to rip their throat out if you needed to. Your sense of self-preservation and vital capacity were way stronger than you had ever anticipated.
> 
> P.S. This was written for Shameless hoes for Chris challenge hosted by amazing @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18!
> 
> Dialogue prompt #12: “Don’t you dare take another step.”

You had never moved that far to the North, but the ones following you cut all other ways out, forcing you to enter territories you had never been before. Although Wanda had warned you about it, there was not much you could do - you almost ran out of both bullets and food. It seemed the game masters had finally paid attention to you and wanted you to move, and it was a damn bad sign.

Carefully hiding an empty can in a heap of garbage just like Wanda taught you, you glanced around again, checking your surroundings with Beretta in your hand. Apparently, there was nothing much in this area apart from ruined buildings just like everywhere else in this abandoned city. You were in desperate need of bullets since you had precisely two left in the magazine of your gun. You wasted most of your resources to fight off three men following you, but then suddenly game masters more coming after you.

You didn’t know how much time you had already spent there, fighting every goddamn day just to stay alive. If not Wanda, you would die shortly after you were brought to the abandoned city.

She called it a sick game for sick people. All of the ones in this place were brought here against their will, you included. The last thing you remembered was walking home after going to the grocery store in the evening, and then you woke up on a dirty mattress in the back alley with a gun in your hand and a small bag with food and water supplies. No medication, no hygiene supplies, nothing else. Well, there was a possibility to find or buy a few things like painkillers and bandages, for example, but it was so rear you only really saw a little pack of Tylenol once.

When Wanda found you, you had already eaten all your food and finished your water, hiding behind a huge garbage bin in the alley, trembling so bad you couldn’t hold the gun properly. Funny enough, you didn’t even know how to pull the trigger as if you had never seen it on TV thousands of times. You were so pathetic that you didn’t really deserved to die from a bullet in your forehead. A stone from the ground was enough to smash your head to pieces - this is what Wanda told you, dragging you to her hideout. She didn’t try killing you, though.

She used to be a child soldier, she said. Sokovian civil war, a conflict you barely heard of. Although Wanda looked fairly young, maybe even your age, she had the eyes of an old woman. Unlike you, she had been kidnapped with a purpose of making the game more interesting - Wanda knew everything about surviving in the middle of chaos. You, on the other hand, were snatched up and used as cannon fodder for this little artificial war.

It was a game, Wanda said. There were cameras everywhere in the city, and all players were tracked with the chip-things buried in them. The only purpose of the game was to stay alive as long as you could. Maybe there was a chance to be released if you killed enough people, but she didn’t believe it. Wanda was sure there was no way out.

All those apocalyptic and Hunger Games type of movies could never live up to the real thing. You were always moving from one place to the other, never staying somewhere for too long. Hiding wasn’t easy, but it couldn’t be compared to the mad chase when other players discovered where you were. Even Wanda who handled rifles and guns as if she were born with them in her hands wasn’t able to predict who would come out alive. So, your main goal was to remain hidden as long as you could. The game masters didn’t like it, but with so many players, many of whom were either soldiers or dangerous criminals, no one really paid attention to the two of you.

You often asked Wanda why she was taking care of you. Indifferent, unfriendly, unsympathetic, she seemed the perfect soldier to you while you were too normal to be able to live long in a place like this. Wanda stayed silent despite all your attempts to learn her motives. The only thing she was willing to talk about was how to stay alive.

“Steal. Kill. Open your legs of you have to. Do whatever it takes to survive.” That’s what she once told you after she shot a dying man asking for help and took all his posessions.

There was no justice, no moral, no honor, no sense of right or wrong, nothing to believe in, nothing to hope for except seeing another day. All of you were just animals fighting for your life every fucking second.

There was no meaning behind it, you thought. What was the reason to keep fighting when there was no end to all of this? Yet every time somebody chased you with a gun you were ready to rip their throat out if you needed to. Your sense of self-preservation and vital capacity were way stronger than you had ever anticipated.

When you thought about her words, you found it odd that Wanda who cared only about survival took you, a dead weight, to take care of. Wasn’t it literally the opposite to what she taught you? Why diminish her own chances to stay alive just to save you? Maybe she wanted to team up with someone, but there were much better players for that, not some girl who had troubles even pulling the trigger. Nevertheless, your grim savior had never opened up to you about the true reasons behind her actions, and, eventually, you just stopped asking.

Wanda kept teaching and guarding you until the day she died, shielding you with her own body when someone tried shooting you. She broke the most important rule she set herself, and you couldn’t understand why. There was so little human left in her, and yet she sacrificed herself to give you a chance to pull through.

Suddenly, you froze, feeling you were being watched. You couldn’t see anyone around or hear anything suspicious, but you had that uneasy feeling of something crawling under your skin. Your instincts were telling you somebody was very close, and you didn’t fucking like it. With two bullets, your chances to stay alive were minimal.

There was a shift in atmosphere, and you ran to the next room of the abandoned building, hearing the sound of gun firing. Shit.

“If somebody is chasing you, don’t think.” Wanda said, watching your eyes opening widely at her. “All this TV bullshit makes you feel like you’d be able to make a right decision in a second while they shooting at you, but that’s not true. It will slow you down. Keep your eyes open and trust your instincts instead. If you’re lucky enough, you will survive.”

She said to reserve time for thinking when you would break away from pursuit, and her advice had never even once failed to save your life. Maybe you were damn lucky just like Wanda said.

But where could you run from here? The room where you were now had just one door. There were a few windows, too, but jumping from the third floor to the cemented road would probably cost you a broken leg or even a spine.

Shit, shit, shit.

You could hear the sound of someone’s footsteps and hurriedly hid behind an overturned table to your left, keeping your finger on the trigger of your Beretta. The one who was going to enter the room in a few seconds would first see a huge wardrobe lying on the floor to their right, big enough to hide behind it, too. If you were lucky, the player would first pay attention to it, giving you a second or two to shoot. When the man set his foot inside the room, you quickly stuck your head out for a second and aimed your gun at him. When you fired the first bullet, you knew you missed his head right after you pulled the trigger. Fuck. The second bullet was gone the next second, but it hit the target perfectly, and then you saw the wall covered in blood as if it were a picture made by action painter. Well, now you could probably call yourself that.

Turning away, you exhaled loudly when the body hit the floor with a loud thud. You were still alive.

Carefully lifting yourself up, you glanced at the corpse of a player, the feeling of being watched finally gone. He was alone here. However, the sound of guns firing could be heard by others, and you needed to relocate immediately. The next moment you were looking through the man’s belongings, finding two cans of chicken - you preferred to have something more nourishing, but any food would do now - a water flask, and two combat knives. No ammunition. He waisted all his bullets trying to kill you.

Biting your lower lip, you hurried to the first floor, doing your best to avoid windows. Knives weren’t bad, but most of the time you preferred not to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Any decent soldier would easily outpower you, and you couldn’t risk it. Damn, you waisted all your bullets to kill the bastard with no ammunition left. How lucky was that? Cursing under your breath, you carefully observed the street, seeing no one, and moved as fast as you could, a gun still in your hands to make players believe you could still shoot.

You wanted to return to the South so bad. You knew that part of the city to perfection while here everything was new. More than that, here the players teamed up in a big groups, guarding their territories like animals, while in the Southern part everyone always moved around and worked in a pair of two or three people maximum. It was a shame you couldn’t return because of game masters chasing you like a mad dog.

All of a sudden that feeling of being watched returned, and you hid in a little alley where huge metal dumpsters were - or what was left of them. Somebody had spotted you, but you couldn’t stay in an alley for long. It was a dead end.

“I know you ran out of bullets.” Somebody’s deep voice cut the eerie silence, and you shivered, gripping your Beretta. “Please come out. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The stranger was either guessing or bluffing. He couldn’t really know you had no ammunition whatsoever, so you stayed where you are, trying to locate him.

His loud sigh sounded closer to you than you had expected.

“Y/N, I’m telling the truth. You have just wasted your last two bullets, haven’t you?”

The next second you were clenching the combat knife Wanda had long passed to you. There was a tall beefy man coming to you with a rifle in his hands, apparently, Kalashnikov or M16, you couldn’t see well from a distance. However, you did see he was oddly handsome with his well-built body, his arms solid, covered in dirt and what seemed like ash. But what truly made you grasp was that he had no beard. The man had a clean shave, his dirty blonde hair cut. Except for game masters, you had never seen a man looking so civil.

But he didn’t look like a game master at all. Who the fuck was he?

“Don’t you dare take another step.” You growled like an animal at him, gripping your knife. It was a pathetic weapon against a rifle, but it was the only thing you had.

He stopped for a few seconds, his expression heavy and dark, but then the man kept coming, and you took a step back in return.

“I just said I’m not going to hurt you. Stop looking at me like I’m a butcher and you’re a little lamb.” He sneered and narrowed his dark blue eyes at you while you clenched your teeth. Whoever he was, it wasn’t going to end well for you.

“How do you know my name?” You barked back at him, thinking what he’s going to do next.

“From the game masters, of course. How many times do I have to tell you I won’t hurt you?”

“What the fuck do game masters want from me, then?”

His handsome face darkened, and you realized he could fire his rifle any second. Moreover, even if he had no bullets, with those arms of his he could probably break you in half, and no knife would save you.

“Don’t swear, Little Red. This your one and only warning.”

As you made a step back, staring into him and understanding nothing at all - how the fuck did he call you just know? - you had stumbled upon something and fell on your back, crying out in despair. Shit, you were out of luck, weren’t you? You would probably die today.

Before you could react, you saw the stranger’s large body hovering over you, the muzzle of his rifle pressed into your stomach as his angry eyes pierced through you. He was clearly done with you and your stubbornness. “I came to offer you join my group.” He said, furrowing his brows at you, laying on the ground. “The Howling Commandos. Ever heard of us?”

“And who the f… who would I be there? Someone’s whore?” With your face burning with deep hatred and humiliation, you were ready to spit in his face. “You think I don’t know how little women are left here and what you do to them?”

Obviously, you hit the nail on the head as the man grabbed you by the collar while still having the muzzle aiming at your stomach. He was clearly mad.

“Do you also know what’s gonna happen if you keep up with that attitude?” The stranger snarled, his eyes furious. “I know you’ve got fire, and I like it. I want to keep you. But if you’re not going to submit to me right here, right now, I will shoot you. Don’t make me do it.”

Both of you fell silent, your chest heaving up and down as the man waited, not moving an inch. You needed to have a minute to gather yourself.

What other choice did you have? He’d shoot you dead before you even blinked.

_Steal. Kill. Open your legs of you have to._

“Alright.” You said through your teeth, feeling the smell of gunpowder and gasoline coming from him as he kept you close, still gripping your collar with his huge hand. “I’ll come with you.”

“Good.”

The man raised you on your feet in the very next second, pushing your combat knife on the ground away with his leg and gesturing you to move forward. However, he did put the rifle down as he took you by the elbow, leading you somewhere to the huge parking lot and watching you intently. However, he didn’t radiate anger as before, seemingly content with your submission, so you kept your mouth shut despite all those questions in your head. Why did game masters give the man information about you? You had never heard of them interacting with any players aside from chasing them from one location to the other. Besides, why did this bastard call you Little Red? What the fuck was that?

“What’s your name?” You asked, turning your head to him as you kept walking.

“Captain Steve Rogers.”

“So, you’re an ex-soldier, huh? A war vet, maybe?” You coughed a little, your mouth feeling dry like the Sahara Desert.

“Something like that, Little Red.”

“Why are you calling me that?”

“Little Red? This is how the ones watching the show call you.” Steve chuckled. “Wanda Maximoff was the Scarlet Witch, and since you’re her protege, they called you Little Red. Kind of sweet.”

You wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but decided it was safer to stay silent. Sick bastards. They treated Wanda as if she were a character in some silly video game. Her death probably made them happy.

Blinking the tears away, you bit down on your tongue and felt metallic taste filling your mouth. This was not the time to mourn your dear friend, this was what Wanda would say to you. You had to gather yourself and think what to do after. You were in Howling Commandos now, and only God knew how many men were there. Would you have to sleep with them all? Fucking hell. It was better to die than go through this.

“Why the hell everyone’s paying so much attention to me?” You grunted as Steve hummed, crossing the parking lot and turning you to pass under the bridge. “Do they want me dead so desperately?”

“No. They want you to team up with someone who will take care of you just like Wanda did, and I fit the role perfectly. I’ve been wanting to have you for a long time.”

“Are you fucking insane?” You hissed angrily at him, becoming rooted to the ground right where you stood. “Take care? Is that how you take care of women? Throwing them to your men to be fucked to death?”

“Language.” His iron grip on your arm made you squirm as Steve pulled you closer to him.

You stared at him with disgust, your dirty face distorted, and then you saw familiar fire in his deep blue eyes as Captain loomed over you, grabbing you by the chin.

“Don’t tell me you have forgotten what I just said, Little Red. I will keep you for _myself_.”


	24. Guardian of dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve x Reader
> 
> In this Steve is able to enter reader's dreams, craving to stay with you.

“See you in three moons, soldier.” You winked, leaving a gentle kiss on his bruised cheek, and Steve reached out to your face, rubbing circles on your chin with his dirty finger.

His hands were pretty busted up, his beaten body hurt - in this dream he was a deserter who turned against his government and joined you, a pirate, in your journeys. You tried finding the end of the Earth, and he loved every day he spent by your side on a ship in the middle of nowhere. He fought against other pirates and Royal Navy, sank ships, smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish, but, most of all, he got to touch you. In this dream he was your lover, and Steve felt like he was on the top of the world.

But all good things must come to an end, and for you it was time to wake up.

“But three moons is so long,” he muttered, looking at you through his long light eyelashes and biting on his lower lip. You smiled at him cheekily and gave him one more kiss - Steve tasted like blood, sweat and cheap rum.

“I’ll come back to you,” you promised, giving him a pat on the shoulder, “I always do.”

With that Steve watched you turning your back to him and slowly walking away somewhere to the pier surrounded by a thick white fog. When your distant figure disappeared from his view completely, Steve cried out on the top of his voice, clenching his bruised fists and squeezing his eyes shut. You didn’t hear him, already waking up in your warm comfy bed.

To you, these dreams were just a product of your magical imagination - your own little world created by your brain while you were asleep. You could never remember Steve’s face clearly as every time you woke up his features became somewhat distorted, blurry, and every time he was just some character inside your dream. Today he was a soldier. Two days ago he had been a warlock, and a week ago your colleague. He had always been there, inside your mind, but every time he was different - he even looked different, bearded or clean-shaved, blonde or dark-haired, skinny or beefy. But he had always been a part of your dream, a part of you, and without him the nights just weren’t the same.

Slowly waking up, you yawned and stretched in your bed, grasping your huge white pillow. Oh, this dream was a very good one. It’s a shame it ended so quickly, you thought and decided to get up to get ready for work before your alarm rang.

Aside from these dreams, you life was quite ordinary: an office worker with a stable, but rather boring job; you were still single despite your family attempts to fix you up with some decent man, and nothing particularly exciting awaited you in the nearest future, but you were alright with it. You had a good life, you thought.

Steve, on the other hand, had been in a state of utter despair for many months. It all started rather innocently as he decided to peep into a new colorful dream he stumbled upon and got curious, but then he suddenly got sucked in it as if you wanted him to be a part of it. He found himself in the middle of an enchanted forest, surrounded by elves and fairies, and realized he had ethereal wings on his back and a flower crown on his head. You were a curious little girl who got lost in the woods, and Steve became your charming guide, showing you the forest you yourself had created. 

“She's mad, but she's magic.“ He thought that time, leading you out of the woods straight to your bed when you started to wake up.

Being with you was fun. Steve enjoyed hearing your voice, listening to your stories, walking side by side with you, his little Alice - for you were little Alice that time, just a bit different one comparing to the original. He was lucky to stumble upon your dream again, and Steve entered it without hesitation. He ended up being a sick skinny boy laying in bed all the time, and you were taking care of him as his nurse. Though it was quite painful comparing to your first dream, Steve still liked it when you were kissing his forehead and wrapping him in warm blankets. 

Of course, he entered your third dream immediately as he saw it. He was keeping doing it all the time, forgetting about his own life in the magic realm and thinking of nothing but being close to you. It was an addiction, his friend Sam said, but Steve couldn’t be far away from you for too long. He just couldn’t.

Wandering the dark forest now as he ended up being thrown into his reality again after you woke up, he kept screaming and crying, feeling abandoned and forgotten. Oh, he wanted to be with you. He wanted to enter your world and see you asleep in your comfy bed, kiss your warm cheeks and smile at you when you would open your eyes and see he was here, with you.

He kept searching for a way to stay with you for longer than he could remember.

One more night, one more dream. Dressed in a fancy ballroom gown with frills and bows, your hair changing once in a few hours - all different colors and shapes and styles - you were trying to complete a quest you yourself had created but forgot about it. Steve wore an elaborate red, blue and white suit that looked like an imperial military uniform with a wide silk baldric and even carrying a sword - not a real one, though. He gained a bit of weight, he thought as he touched his chubby cheeks and saw his rounding belly. It appeared Steve was a married middle-aged man in this dream, and he was married to you.

Married. It was the first time. Smiling and watching you through the glasses on his nose, Steve hurried after you, storming in search of answers. This time you were in a castle, and there was a carnival as people kept dancing or sneaking around, trying to solve the riddles. Steve wasn’t sure why the quest was important.

“Hurry, darling!” You asked him, motioning your husband to come closer to you while you stood near the shod gate to a little chapel, looking at the royal cyphers and odd symbols engraved on black steel. “I need you help.”

“I’m here, honey.” Steve smiled, rubbing your gentle hand in a white silk glove as he stared at the gate, trying to understand what you were looking for. “Remind me, why are we doing this again?”

“You silly!” You chuckled, your face growing hot from his little signs of affection. “We need to solve all the riddles to break free from the castle until midnight, otherwise we will stay here for the whole year before the next masquerade.”

Ooh. Yes, it sounded nice. It was exactly what Steve wanted - making your dream stay longer so he could use his magic to enter your realm while your spirit was trapped here. He could never even wish for this opportunity, and you were giving it to him yourself. 

Oh, you loved him. You most definitely loved him and were ready to give him a chance.

“Huh, let me have a look.” He whispered, propping his glasses on his nose and coming closer to the gate. “I think this cypher doesn’t match other ones.”

“I guess you’re right. Anyway, if we get the wrong one, the gate will remain close, so we will know.”

Smiling, Steve carefully withdrew a metal cypher that quickly popped up from the gate as if it wanted to be taken away, and the gate opened in front of you while you applauded your smart lovely husband. Watching your pretty face shining, the man bowed to you a little, making you go to the chapel first, and you hurried towards the stairs, not looking at him behind your back.

Taking one more cypher - the wrong one now - and locking the gate with a loud clanging, Steve smiled lovingly at you when you turned to face him behind the gate, your eyes growing wide.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” You asked him, not understanding why he left you here alone. “There are no more riddles here. Please, come, we need to enter the chapel.”

As you grabbed black iron bars, watching your husband with slight concern, Steve gave you a little peck on the lips quickly, hiding both cyphers in the pockets of his jacket. 

“My name is Steve, Y/N. I promise to come back shortly to you once I’ll bring your physical body here.”

When he pronounced the name you had never voiced in any of your dreams, probably unable to remember it in your sleep, your eyes shot open as you clamped a hand against your mouth, getting away from the gates. 

You realized you couldn’t wake up now.


	25. Secret relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers x Reader
> 
> Steve is "rescuing you" from a family brunch, but you have no idea how long he waited to meet you.

Although the encounters with your family grew a bit more hostile over the year, this family brunch was an utter nightmare to you: your mom decided you didn’t know how worried she were about you having no decent partner. Listening to her trying to force you meeting a son of her coworker - “ _a very sweet boy with a kind heart and a nice salary, Y/N!_ ” - you did your best not to roll your eyes. She was being impossible. Why on Earth did your mother think she could invade your life this way? You weren’t a kid anymore, and you didn’t need her interfering in your affairs.

But even your dad was unable to stop her as she kept talking more and more about you finally settling down. Once again your mother reminded you that in your age she had already had children of her own while you still struggled to find a man. Of course, she didn’t listen to you saying you didn’t want to settle down just yet. 

Internally screaming, you drank your tea, unable to touch those amazing cinnamon buns right in front of you because your mom would definitely ask you whether you kept a healthy diet. She sent you such a look when you wanted to order some pasta.

“Mom, please.” You exhaled, barely holding on. “Every time you tried fixing me up with someone it never worked out. I know you’re doing it for me, but, ugh, we just have very different taste in men. Dad, no offense!”

He had to suppress a laugh under your mother’s icy glare and quickly snatched a bun, pretending he’s busy eating. You couldn’t blame him - sometimes you wandered how he was holding on all those years with your mom.

She wasn’t a bad parent, really. You loved her, and she was ready to give you everything she had to make you happy, but sometimes your mother just couldn’t see the line where she had to stop. Of course, her concern was genuine, yet she had no right to intrude into your personal life like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Dear, if you were able to find a nice man on your own, I wouldn’t have to do it for you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at you, and you felt like hiding behind your dad’s back.

“Well, maybe I have someone, but I just don’t tell you about him!” You protested, setting your cup back on the saucer and crossing your arms on your chest. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“And why would you refuse letting me know you date someone decent?” She chuckled, lowering her fork into heavenly smelling spaghetti Bolognese. “The answer is simple, isn’t it? Because even if he exists he’s _not decent!”_

_You were really fighting your growing desire to just stand up, pay for the meal at the counter and leave because your mother was really insufferable today. You could never understand her concern with you not seeing anyone. if you were still happy, why did it matter? Why didn’t she ask you about your reasons? The last relationship you were in was suffocating, and you thought you were still recovering from it, enjoying your freedom._

_God, now you were really thinking of asking your friend to pretend you were dating just to calm down your mom._

_Exhaling loudly and squeezing your eyes shut when your dad tried talking to her, you wished for this family brunch to end as quickly as it could. Well, could you maybe message some of your friends to give you a call and then act like it was your boss? Last time it worked._

_“Sweetheart, why do you never pick up your phone?”_

_Someone’s voice rang right behind you, and you jumped a little in your seat, turning away from your parents and looking at the man standing too close to your liking._

__Holy cow_. He looked like Adonis. Or Apollo. You couldn’t really tell, gawking at his impressive biceps barely hidden by his t-shirt, his tight jeans hugging all the right places - he reminded you of a ancient Greek statue, so picture-perfect and absolutely _hot_._

_But what did this breathtakingly handsome stranger want from you? You certainly didn’t remember befriending any Greek gods in this lifetime._

_“I’m sorry if I scared you. I admit I was a little mad you didn’t answer my calls.” He smiled, disarming and charming, and you were almost chocking on air at his tender tone._

_Then he lifted the sunglasses he was wearing, and you realized he was winking at you._

_Oh. _Ooooh_._

_“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, hurriedly taking out your phone from your bag hanging on the chair. “I put it on silent and forgot to check. Hi dear! How did you find me?”_

_“I’ve been secretly stalking you, of course.” He laughed it off, and the glasses kept going down on his nose until you saw who he really was. The next second you froze, happy you turned away from your parents as they would definitely see something wasn’t right._

_Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, was staring back at you._

_For a moment you forgot how to breathe, mentally kicking yourself to say something, anything at all to keep the conversation going. Captain America saw your miserable encounter with your mom and decided to give you a hand to escape this family brunch, and you weren’t even able to utter a single word. But who could blame you for that, right? How often did you see a superhero coming to rescue you from your own mom?_

_You needed to say something. You absolutely needed to say something._

_“I will be more careful next time.” You managed to smile playfully at him, turning to face your parents and seeing they, too, had already realized who was standing in front of them. “Mom, dad, I’m sorry, but there’s a very good reason why I can’t meet that nice guy you were telling me about.”_

_“Please, forgive me my rudeness.” Steve hurriedly said as if he just saw people sitting at the same table with you, coming closer and extending his arm to your dad, then kissing the back of your mother’s hand. You were ready to laugh at her bedazzled expression, her mouth open a little. “My name is Steve. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”_

_“The pleasure is all mine.” Your father said in a quiet voice, unable to process who was standing close to him._

_It looked pretty surreal to you too, but you could hardly wish for a more perfect way to stop your mom from fixing you up with someone. Of course, you couldn’t tell her about your date because you were seeing Captain fucking America, alright? And no other sweet and nice boy could ever be compared to him, perfection of perfection._

_You were so damn lucky Steve Rogers was willing to help you out here._

_“I’m very sorry to interrupt your brunch, but I really need Y/N’s help with something and it’s rather delicate. May I snatch her from you?” You could tell even your mother was absolutely abashed with his wide smile when Steve looked at her questioningly._

_“O-of course, sir.” Your dad said, seeing his wife currently losing her ability to speak. “We perfectly understand. Thank you for taking care of her. Have a good day!”_

_With that you were finally free, standing up abruptly and clenching your bag in your hands as you bid your goodbye to your parents, now walking side by side with a national hero who had put his large arm around your waist like it was a usual thing. You still had a hard time accepting the fact it was Steve Rogers who had volunteered to save you. He was risking his privacy doing it - how did he know your mom or you wouldn’t run to paparazzi squad and claim you’re dating Captain America? It would surely bring him troubles._

_Yet here you were, walking further and further from that little restaurant with him, unable to say a single word._

_“Thank you so much, sir.” You barely whispered, and the man turned his head to you, smiling. “I don’t know what I’d do if you wouldn’t come.”_

_“Why are you calling me _sir_?” He laughed, shaking his head and rubbing your back affectionately. “I’m just Steve. Always happy to help a lady.”_

_Your cheeks were burning instantly, and you bit your lips, lowering your head and wondering how far did you have to walk together so your parents wouldn’t see you two parting ways. Hell, would your mom try to spy on you? It wouldn’t be surprising, actually._

_So, you walked and walked until the restaurant became just a little spot somewhere far away._

_“Thank you for your help.” You repeated, stopping in the middle of a street and making Steve frown, unable to understand why you weren’t willing to keep walking. “I’m so sorry I took so much of your time. You don’t have to accompany me any longer!”_

_“What?” He asked, looking at you with a slight concern._

_“I mean, I’m sure my parents had long lost us in the crowd. Besides, we’re so far from them, So, um, you don’t have to keep pretending.”_

_“What are you talking about, sweetheart?”_

_Taking his sunglasses away, he gently drew you closer to him, and you watched him tilting his head to the side as he rubbed circles on the back of your hand. Steve’s smile was so tender it was able to make you melt, but the way his eyes lingered on you… You suddenly felt uneasy. Why was he reluctant to let you go?_

_“I’m saying I’m alright and I can continue on my own, si-” You got silent for a second as his gaze turned dark. “Steve.”_

_“Let’s not a make a scene, dear.” He smiled, giving you a kiss on the forehead while you froze on the spot. “I don’t want your mom to think things haven’t been great between us. It’s gonna break her heart, you know?”_

_Before you had time to say something, confused and a little scared of the things Steve was talking about, he had forcefully dragged you along to a car parked out on the street and opened the door, quickly pushing you inside. He closed the door right when you decided it was time to scream for help._


	26. Forced Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve x Reader
> 
> Stumbling upon a girl kissing the statue of him in a museum, Steve grows worried of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry for not answering all your comments! I need a little bit more time 😣  
> Thank you for keeping reading my stories!

Steve wasn’t a big fan of museums, really. Not that he was against cultural education, but more often than not Rogers felt like _he_ was a museum piece, a part of the exhibition. Looking back at all those things he missed while being under the ice was still painful as hell, too. However, when he saw Madame Tussauds wax museum and Chaplin’s and Einstein’s sculptures, Steve decided he could spare a few minutes of his time.

In fact, the museum was closing in just half an hour, one of the staff had informed him, but once Steve lifted his sunglasses and smiled, the man fell silent and then immediately showed him where the entrance was. Having some privileges was nice, even though Steve didn’t use them often.

There was only one other visitor except him, a girl in an old gray jacket wandering the rooms filled with perfect wax figures of famous people. Steve felt at ease - he didn’t appreciate being in crowded places when he just wanted some peace. But here, among the silent sculptures of strangers, the man felt like he was that Brooklyn boy again. No one stalking him with a camera, no one shouting things behind his back, no one asking for a photo or his signature. It was perfect.

Despite the fact he didn’t know more than half of celebrities whose figures were there, Steve still enjoyed it, looking at perfect waxwork, all those faces and wigs and costumes and jewelry. Of course, he saw all kind of statues, but this was something entirely different. He decided he needed to come here again and spend some more time looking at these artworks in complete silence, no one watching him round corners. 

Then he reached the last room and realized that, among others, there were figures of Avengers, his included. The girl was there, too, standing right opposite his own sculpture in a navy blue uniform with a shield in his hand. Steve found it funny that the figure literally had his face. Whoever crafted it was very talented, indeed.

The girl kept standing there, frozen on the spot, as she stared at Captain’s sculpture, and Steve wondered why she had been looking at it for so long. Now he was watching not the figures but her, peering at her over his shoulder. Had she seen him in real life? Did this figure remind her of real him? Steve was getting more and more curious with each passing second.

Suddenly, she got even closer and rose up onto her toes, and he saw her touching the lips of a sculpture with hers. She was kissing his figure.

The next moment she flew past him to the exit, probably deeply embarrassed, and Steve barely had time to pretend like he was looking at Hulk’s huge sculpture, not her. He needed a few seconds to fully understand what was going on here.

Did she know him? Did she love him? He couldn’t remember her face, so she was probably one of his countless admirers. It shouldn’t had surprised him, really, but Steve was still thinking of her kissing his statue in an empty wax museum.

He didn’t know why he decided to follow her, but he did. 

Rogers found her pretty quickly, hurrying down the street, wrapped in her jacket like in an invisible cloak. Now he had time to see properly how she looked like, what she wore except that old jacket, what she carried with her, how she walked, where she hurried so much. 

Why did she kiss his statue? Did she harbor a secret crush? Did she do it just because she felt an urge to do something silly? Did she want to know how his lips would feel against hers? These questions were tearing Steve apart while he kept following the girl, watching her shying away from strangers and timidly holding her bag. He could see she was still very much embarrassed.

When she hid inside the building, Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that he _needed_ to know the truth. He was searching for the girl’s window with such persistence as if his life depended on it, climbing the fire escape ladder in the dark. Did he expect to see posters with his face hanging on the walls? Maybe he did, though Steve wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t saw them. Instead, he found the girl’s drawings. Yes, he was on some of them, too. 

A part of him knew it wasn’t really nice to watch the girl leaving her bag on the couch and then proceeding to the powder room, probably, but he decided it wouldn’t hurt her if she wouldn’t know. In the end, he wasn’t a deranged stalker following his crush. He was Captain America, for God’s sake, and not some creep.

The girl didn’t seem different from any other young ladies he was seeing daily. She wasn’t breathtakingly beautiful; she didn’t have a memorable face. Nothing about her seemed special, yet Steve couldn’t quite shake the feeling there was something he just couldn’t see. 

When she lowered herself on the dark brown couch and brought her hands to her face, he realized she was crying. Why? Out of embarrassment? Humiliation? Regret? She kept wiping her tears again and again, and Steve felt disturbed for not knowing the reason why she cried. This strange need _to know_ was getting under his skin.

Steve went home without the answers he craved for, disappointed and tired. While he didn’t really understand why any of this mattered to him, he was determined to learn what he could about the girl and her reasons, eventually. He couldn’t get a picture of her kissing his statue out of his mind, and when he laid in bed that night, he still remembered her crying helplessly in her little studio, wiping the wet tracks with the back of her hand.

Soon he knew many things about her, including her name, age, family, place she grew up, name of kids who bullied her at school, the college where she studied now, her cumulative GPA, and what her favorite courses were. It did not, however, make him understand why she did what she did. From what Steve could see, the girl was very shy and had troubles connecting with people because of her self-esteem issues. But why did she kiss his statue? Was she feeling so lonely the only one she could be a bit affectionate with was his wax copy?

He needed to get closer to her to see.

Steve didn’t consider breaking in her apartment a bad thing. He wasn’t a burglar or anyone who wanted to harm her. Maybe he was the exact opposite, hoping to figure out what was wrong and then give girl a hand. In the end, Captain America had always helped the ones who needed him, right?

Her studio was really tiny, but pretty clean, too, and Steve could swear he still felt the smell of pancakes she did that morning. He found it comforting as he inspected her kitchen and found out she was practicing her baking skills, cooking apple pies and brownies and red velvet cupcakes. Actually, he even thought of stealing some from her but quickly dropped that idea. Who was he? Some petty criminal or something? Steve was sure the girl would give him a little bit of those willingly if he asked. He even thoughts he deserved it after all the troubles she brought him.

The drawings hanging on the wall above her desk were nothing special, yet when Steve pictured the girl doing them he felt something warm spreading in his chest. Even if she wasn’t best at what she was doing, it still felt nice to see her trying. Knowing people surrounding her, he doubted anyone tried to recognize her efforts and tell her something nice. He definitely would, Steve thought then.

Her clothes were pretty plain and often baggy. He didn’t appreciate it, actually, but he knew she dressed that way because she didn’t believe she’d look good in anything else. Steve thought he’d be happy to prove her wrong - in his mind she’d be perfect in one of that 50s red dresses with wide skirts, her shining red shoes tapping when she walked with him in the park. 

When Steve inspected her desk and found a little diary, he opened it almost nervously, knowing he would get the answers he was searching for.

The first pages had barely anything important - the girl was writing about her first days in college, being far away from her family, and that very same studio she managed to rent. Then she wrote about her classes and classmates, cool Indian restaurant opposite of the studio, a new pack of pencils she bought, her nice neighbors… There were a lot of drawings, too, and sometimes Steve stumbled upon his own face or the star on his suit. 

But the more he read, the darker her stories became, and soon he found out how deeply she hated herself, how many destructive thoughts she harbored. It was truly disturbing for Steve to read about her desire to be someone she wasn’t, wishing not to look the way she did or have talents she didn’t have. Sometimes she wrote about self-harm, and it got him truly frightened. After a few more pages he found several notes about himself where she wrote how she was looking up to him, watching those funny videos he had to film for schools and visiting the Smithsonian again. She wrote she stopped thinking about doing something to herself because this wasn’t a right thing to do - there was a little doodle of his smiling face at the end of the page. Then he read a few kind words about himself, again.

The girl didn’t keep on harming herself because of Steve, it was clear as day.

He read and he read, growing more and more sure the girl loved him, treating him as if he was a god-like being. Of course, Steve knew of some of his fans being delirious, but this wasn’t something like that, he was sure. It felt like she knew him despite never meeting him in person, and her strange devotion to him was keeping her safe and sane.

However, then Steve reached the page where the girl wrote about the day when she saw his wax statue in Madam Tussaud’s. He didn’t really know what to expect, but he didn’t think he’d see the whole three pages filled with words of deep self-hatred either. The girl was angry at herself for that silly little kiss. 

“Why did I do that?” She wrote in her diary, and Steve imagined how she trembled as her writing got rather messy. “ _How_ could I do something so disrespectful and stupid? I’m lucky no one spotted me or made a photo. If Captain America saw it somewhere on Twitter, I would end my life with a knife.”

He really, really wanted to drop the diary on the couch he was sitting on, but Steve had to go till the end, seeing she was drawing him less and less, saying something about not deserving it. Steve bit down on his lower lip, realizing he had to put an end to this, and finally left the diary on her desk.

He decided to wait for the girl’s return and take her with him to help her out with her self-esteem issues. Of course, he was sure she would try to resist and push him away, but he needed to take care of her for her own safety.


	27. The Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes x mutant!Reader
> 
> Once an ordinary human, you keep running away from both HYDRA and Avengers, knowing what your powers will be used for. The problem is the Soldat picking up your trail.
> 
> P.S. The reader is somewhat dark-ish in this one.

Carefully slipping inside the laundry room through a broken window, you landed on the cold concrete floor and shivered, hoping you could find a really warm blanket somewhere upstairs.

Although you still felt a bit ashamed breaking in the houses of other people like that, at this point it was the one and only alternative you had. Of course, there was always an option to submit to HYDRA or whoever else was hunting you down, but you didn’t really appreciated it, simply trying to stay away from both heroes and villains since to you they were all the same. You knew perfectly well once somebody captured you they’d be using you for murdering other people.

Thankfully, laundry room wasn’t locked, and you started wandering the house, peeping into each and every room. Watching photos of the family the house belonged to, you felt guilty again. These people weren’t at fault you were homeless and chased out from every damn place on the Earth, but you still took what was theirs just because you could find no other way to live. Well, at least you tried to leave the place as it had been prior to your break-in, except a broken window in the laundry room and canned beans you’d eat.

God, you could kill for a bowl of homemade chicken soup. You barely remembered eating it before HYDRA captured you a few years ago. Of course, they didn’t try to starve you there, but you couldn’t call what they’d been giving you real food either. Thinking of your cell and those meals made you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. Everywhere was better than there, so you needed to put your shit together and take whatever fate offered you.

It was getting late, and you glanced at the tiny window in the basement, wrapped in a big grey comforter you brought from upstairs. You never slept in the rooms of other people, not knowing when the rightful owners of the houses you broke in could come back. Generally, you didn’t have problems with people, either escaping before their return or finding your way out secretly without them knowing somebody was hiding in their basement. However, sometimes you had a feeling people hunting you were coming close, and you didn’t risk getting too comfortable. Today was one of those days, and you bit down on your lower lip. These ones were probably not HYDRA operatives - they’d never risk attacking you at night when your powers were at peak. Nevertheless, it didn’t mean whoever was coming for you was harmless. You had to be prepared.

That’s it. Somebody was approaching, you could feel it in your bones. It was probably the one and only thing you were grateful to HYDRA - you were nearly invincible in the dark.

Silently leaving the comforter on the floor near an empty can, you got up, moving to stand near the wall behind the door, hardened black mass blocking tiny windows and leaving the intruder only one way to get in. You hoped they weren’t bringing explosives as you still had a hard time compressing the darkness around them - a month ago it resulted in some serious damage done to the house where you were hiding.

But this time was different: there was only one man who came for you, A strange man, though. He had a metal arm, and his body… It was something you had never felt before. The man was like that Duracell bunny they showed in TV ad, enhanced to the point he was barely human, probably.

But he was still just a man, now all alone with a monster like you.

When he entered quietly, leaving the door barely open, you blew it off its hinges. You had very little patience - now you would have to have a sleepless night, trying to find a new hideout as far as you could from this place and hoping HYDRA wouldn’t track you down. Its operatives were way more creative in their attempts to catch you: that mirror box trapping light nearly killed you last time.

Wrapping your fists into black mass like boxing gloves, you punched the man, but he quickly moved away, apparently, more skilled in combat than you were. Well, whatever, you thought as the darkness disintegrated on top of your skin, and then the intruder got a direct blow to his stomach without you getting near him. Coming to you at night was a suicide.

You kept beating him down until he dropped to the cold floor of the basement, beads of sweat and blood shining on his skin as you pinned him down, completely unharmed. You did your best to avoid the vital organs, but it was probably unnecessary - you could literally feel the soldier regenerating while he laid down, staring at the ceiling. Was he HYDRA’s creation just like you were? Or did good guys make beasts like him, too?

“I won’t do anything to you,” you told him, coming closer to look into his surprisingly handsome face, “but I’ll kill whoever you send to catch me next.”

“HYDRA’s… coming after you.” The soldier muttered, coughing and wincing from pain as you towered above him.

“You or them, doesn’t matter much.”

A part of you felt remorse for beating the stranger so bad he couldn’t rip the restraints holding him down despite his enormous strength, but the other part made you remember you were the victim, not him. The only thing you ever wanted was living like a human being, not a lab rat or a weapon of mass destruction used by whoever hold you hostage.

Besides, if this guy didn’t know the nature of your powers before attacking you, now he certainly did. It was unwise to let him live - he would definitely let his masters know - but you couldn’t force yourself to end him. Killing wasn’t nice. You had never enjoyed it.

“Avengers can protect you.”

What? Did the man work for them, then? You smirked, shaking you head.

“Avengers can’t protect themselves. Now please be quiet and let me leave. We’re done for today.” Turning your back at him, you went to grab your backpack and then put a few cans in it to continue your journey, tired and upset you couldn’t rest despite travelling all day long.

“I can help you.”

You abruptly turned to face him still chained to the floor and clenched your teeth. This was what HYDRA’s men were telling you year after year. _Helping you,_ that what they were doing.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to plant spikes right through your tongue.” You hissed at him, going back and watching him with his pretty mouth finally shut. “If you wanna play a hero so much, go wipe HYDRA out and forget I’ve ever existed.”

The soldier stayed silent, and you exhaled angrily, marching through the basement to the stairs and quickly going up. God knew how many people could be waiting for you outside of the house - Avengers were usually gathering together on the missions, even you knew that from occasionally seeing them in the news.

Shit, it was going to be a long night.

________________________

One more month was gone as you continued to run and hide like the world’s top criminal, chased out of many cities where you could find peace for at least a couple of days. Now it was mostly one-night sleepovers anywhere you could find. You finally understood what being a mad dog meant - sometimes you thought you could kill for those canned beans you hated so much before.

Slowly, but surely you were running out of options where to hide. The only place now was the forest surrounding that little town where you relocated after your brief encounter with HYDRA two days ago. Forest was a bad place to be. You had very little skills allowing you to survive out in the wild for long. The more you thought about that, the more you realized you had, in fact, only one option left.

 _Suicide._ Only then you could become truly free of that mad chase and ensure no one would use your abilities for killing others. You already had enough blood on your hands.

And still, when you though of black spikes piercing your head, you were shaking. It would be so much easier if somebody just shot you when you weren’t looking.

Huh, what a cruel world you lived in, you thought while finishing a can of chicken ham - God, you didn’t even remember when you ate something so delicious. It was harder to imagine killing yourself after a good meal, but you still considered the option, looking at the carpet with a dull expression on your face.

You were euphoric after your escape from that facility where you were held, and now you were thinking maybe it was better to just wither there like all those countless men and women before you, unable to contain their enormous powers in pathetic human bodies. What was the point of being so strong if you couldn’t have your life back? What were these powers for except the destruction? You’d gladly exchange your fantastic abilities on a chance to return home to your family. That is, if HYDRA let it be, which was unlikely.

You blinked, tired to the point you barely felt your own body. If they’d decide to come for you now, you probably couldn’t dodge the attack this time.

But it wasn’t HYDRA who came for you - with a syringe in your neck, you suddenly fell down to the floor, watching the handsome face of a man who had seemingly emerged from the wall behind you like a ghost. What was that? Was he like you, too? You didn’t sense it in him the first time, but maybe the soldier was more dangerous than you anticipated. Well, he certainly was, you thought as he carried you upstairs like a firefighter escaping the burning house. Would he lock you down in a cell, too? Would he let his masters experiment on you for the sake of humanity? Would he kill you once you closed your eyes?

Before the soldier reached the front entrance, you had already lost consciousness under the influence of the drag he injected.

The darkness that followed should had been calming, soothing, as you only felt safe in complete darkness, but you couldn’t find your peace: it was cold and lonely and scary when you were falling down deeper and deeper into the black void. Did he kill you, then? Was it the end? Would you spend your eternity in the dark?

It certainly felt like eternity before you woke up, still in the middle of nowhere, but feeling a soft mattress beneath your back. Your arms and legs hurt - it felt like you were tied up to bed. However, the fabric of your clothes was nothing like the ones you wore before the assault. It felt soft, and smelled pretty nice, too.

But you still saw nothing, nothing at all. Everything was pitch black.

Were you in a dark room? A cell? Whatever, you could work with it, you though and called the darkness as if it was a part of you.

And nothing happened.

You called again, then once more and once more, but the darkness didn’t free you. It didn’t answer to your plea - it wasn’t there at all.

Suddenly, you realized there was no darkness surrounding you as you heard a subtle buzz of dozen projectors directed right at you. The darkness was in your head because they blinded you.

You were screaming and crying and jolting on the bed, trying your best to break free, crush the metal headboard, do anything at all to just touch your eyes, discover what they did to you as you felt nothing but numbness and some tingling. Did they pluck out your eyes? Did they take them out because it would be easier to control you once you lost your eyesight?

You didn’t know whether you were still screaming when you felt a stranger’s hand on your cheek as he sat down on the bed. Exhausted and horrified, you tried kicking him, but the restraints kept you in place as he lowered his head to your face, “it’s alright. You’re safe.”

Oh, it was him. It was the soldier who had emerged from the wall of the house you were hiding the last time.

“What did you… do to me?” Breathing hard, you yanked your head to the side to avoid his touch. Huh, safe, that how he called it. HYDRA or Avengers, there had never been any difference to you.

“I had to temporarily blind and drug you. The effect will wash off in a few days.”

With that, you forgot how to breathe for a couple of seconds. Temporarily? Did it mean you eyes would be alright? Did he not pop your eyes out of their sockets?

“Please, calm down. I won’t hurt you.”

You stayed quiet, but not because the soldier asked you to. You just laid there, listening to the buzz of the projectors and thinking you would be able to see something again. For a few seconds you were filled with a bitter sense of triumph. Maybe you were crying again, though you couldn’t really feel the tears streaming down your face.

Oh, how could you wish to die? How could you even think of committing suicide? No, no, never again, even if you’d have to break each and every bone in the bodies of your enemies, and rip their heads off. Whatever it takes just never to return to that black void again.

“No one knows you’re here.” The soldier said somewhere close to your face, and you furrowed your brows. “HYDRA won’t find you.”

“Until you push me to the battlefield.” You sneered, still furious he did such a horrible thing to you, leaving you here like that.

“Avengers don’t know you here either.”

Laughing sarcastically, you fell silent as you felt his flesh hand touching your cheek and brushing the hair out of your face.

“Don’t worry, I will fulfill your wish.” You could smell the metal of his breath. “You won’t exist for anyone but me.”


	28. What He Wants to Hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers x Reader
> 
> You want to be a good wife, you really do, but your amnesia doesn’t make your life any easier.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” He asked, and you felt guilt consuming you again: despite all those days he had already spent caring about you, you still couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, afraid and ashamed to look him in the face as he sat down on your bed, smiling.

“Don’t be. I just want to know how you’re feeling today.” Steve kept smiling, and your eyes were glimming with tears again: he was too kind, too loving. How could you deserve him while you struggled to remember your own husband at all? You hardly imagined what Steve felt every day while you kept giving him the same answer over and over again. You still didn’t remember.

You asked him to hug you, leaning closer and throwing your arms around his neck, hiding your face so he wouldn’t have to see you crying. How tired was he of this? Your amnesia? You? You were afraid one day Steve would decide to move on and leave you, find someone else, someone who wouldn’t be afraid to lose her mind and what little memories she had. Oh, you were so sorry Steve had chosen you once and now had to deal with all that you brought upon his head. He didn’t deserve it. He was a good man; the best of them all.

“I love you.” You started crying, pressing your face into his shoulder and staining his t-shirt with your tears. “I love you so much, Steve.”

“Shhh.” He cooed softly in your ear, stroking your back and caressing your head with his rough, work-weary hand. “Everything’s alright, honey. You know I love you more than anyone, do you?”

You nodded, wanting to ask him how could he, knowing you had no memories of meeting each other or dating or getting married or buying the house you two lived in now, but you kept your mouth shut. Steve would be upset if you brought it up again - he had enough of it already, reassuring you it didn’t matter day after day. Oh, how lucky you were to love Steve Rogers, a man with a soul so much more pure than anyone you had ever known. He was like a giant sun, warm and kind and understanding, his heart of pure gold. Despite the fact it was him who was driving the car when that accident happened, you had always felt safe with Steve, never able to blame him. Anyway, it was that drunk man’s fault, not his, wasn’t it?

But you knew Steve still couldn’t forget that day: sometimes at night when he thought you were sleeping you heard him whispering sorry over and over again as he laid next to you. You even heard him crying a few times, and God, did you hate yourself for it. He wasn’t at fault your brain didn’t fully recovered despite the fact there was no apparent damage done.

“What do you want to have for breakfast, sweetheart?” Smiling again, he wiped your tears with his thumb and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

God, you really didn’t deserve him.

“You’ve been doing breakfasts for me the whole week.” Embarrassed, you gently took his huge hand in yours, finally looking your husband into the eyes. “I want to cook something for you today. What would you like?”

You could see his face lit up, his smile growing wider as you kept an eye contact with him. “Do you want to cook together, then?”

“Yes!” Your immediate answer made him laugh a little, his expression softening. “I wanna fry some bacon and eggs! Will you make coffee and toasts?”

“Of course.”

Sometimes you thought Steve’s smile was the reason you were ready to go through all this once again, regardless how painful and humiliating it felt to not remember your loving husband who was doing his absolute best for you. You tried to be a good wife, too, but Steve insisted you shouldn’t get back to work - money weren’t an issue when your health was at stake, he said. Instead, you were trying to remember how to cook (he said you were baking the best apple pies he had ever tried), taking care of the house (but not too much, spending your day cleaning the floors wasn’t good for your health either), and gardening (also not for long because you weren’t very stong yet and Steve didn’t want you to be dead when he was coming back home).

The only thing you truly wanted was to remember him. Wake up one morning and tell him your old self was back with all your memories of him and your relationship. But you had no idea how much Steve hoped you would never ever regain your memories.

Because there was no relationship before the accident. In fact, there was no accident the way you thought it happened. No car crush, nothing of the sort. Just a drug to make you forget what you weren’t meant to remember.

Steve felt as guilty as you did, knowing it wasn’t right to make all this happen to you. He didn’t deserve you, but then again, who did? In the end, he could protect you, give you something no one else could, and make you so much happier. He saw you were getting accustomed to living with him, and he had never felt better when you asked him to hug or kiss you, leaning closer to him by your own accord. Maybe you had already loved him; Steve really, really hoped you had because you were his world.

Every morning he was waking up in constant fear you’d remember you never dated him, never got married to him willfully, never bought a house you two lived in now. Although you did know him before the accident, you barely talked.

It would be for the better if you just started a new life with him by your side. Steve was happy you really tried your best.

As he kissed your knuckles, helping you to get out of bed after that, he smiled softly while you got into your fluffy pink slippers and started marching to the kitchen.


	29. Not good enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers x Reader
> 
> The stranger you had been texting for a few months is worried about you not taking care of yourself.
> 
> P.S. Yes, some more soft!dark!Steve because I need it 😣

“Tell me you love me.” 

Rubbing your eyes and trying to wake up, you stared at the screen of your cellphone, reading the message Cap sent you at 3 am. You hadn’t heard from him during last two weeks, but you knew it had something to do with his job, as always. Even if it wasn’t though, it was none of your business. He was just a stranger you had been texting for the last few months.

“Good morning, Captain.”

You hit the send button and sat in bed, yawning and stretching. You still felt exhausted, but mornings were always much better than evenings. Then you typed one more message, thinking whether the man (you _supposed_ he was a man) had time to sleep tonight.

“I love you.”

Watching the three dots appearing on the screen, you realized he probably had insomnia or was forced to go to work despite returning late. You smiled, waiting for his reply before finally leaving your bed and absentmindedly dropping your phone on the desk when you headed to the shower. When you returned with a big white towel wrapped around you, you saw three more messages - Captain wasn’t really patient, but you couldn’t blame him for that.

“I love you too, little star.”

“How have you been doing? Are you taking good care of yourself?”

“I missed you.”

Your lips curled in a smile when you read all his messages. No, you weren’t taking good care of yourself, but you could do little about it. Your anxiety and panic attacks were still making your life pretty difficult. Well, not that Captain needed to know about it, considering he probably had a handful of his own problems just like everybody else.

You didn’t reply him right away, getting dressed first and applying some makeup before heading to the kitchen with a phone in your hand. Despite being hungry, you didn’t have strength to cook something, so you simply cracked two eggs into pan and turned the stove on, proceeding to make yourself some coffee after that. You were still proud you started eating any breakfast at all.

As you finally settled, a plate with fried eggs in front of you, your phone buzzed again.

“Please send me photo of your breakfast, honey.”

You laughed at that but did as he asked you before proceeding to eat. A part of you was happy at least someone still cared. Sure, sometimes Cap could be a bit weird and maybe even controlling, but he was the only one who wanted to see what you ate, not your naked boobs or ass. This was probably one of the reasons why you still kept in touch with him after all those months.

“No fruits or vegetables? This is not good. Your doctor wanted you to eat better.”

True, you thought, sipping your coffee. You couldn’t tell Cap you just had no strength to go shopping because he definitely wouldn’t like it. You simply needed to get yourself together and order delivery this evening after returning from work.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I’ll try to do better.” You sent him after finishing the plate.

“Are you alright, little star?”

No, you weren’t. But he didn’t need to know that.

“I am, thank you. I hope you are alright, too.”

With that you left your empty plate and cup in the sink, heading to the hallway and grabbing you bag before leaving for work. With or without Captain, it was just one more useless day you had to get through.

The office was busy with people making thousand phone calls, talking to each other about that new marketing campaign or a contract with an advertisement agency or what they brought today for lunch. This constant noise didn’t bother you anymore as you sat at your desk and put on your headphones - you didn’t have to deal with people as your job was to finish that damn sales report you’d been struggling yesterday and the day before. If only your boss was willing to buy a better software, you’d be done in a matter of two hours the most, but the man was the cheapest cheapskate you had ever met. 

Well, you were grateful to have a job, anyway.

“Are you taking your meds?” Cap probably had the day off today as he kept messaging you again.

“I do. Thank you for asking.”

He was really lucky he didn’t need any, though, of course, you didn’t know whether he lied or not. You knew well some people weren’t comfortable talking about such private things. Actually, you weren’t either, but Cap had somehow gotten pretty close to you comparing to all those strangers you were talking on the web from time to time. You knew you had no reason to trust him, yet again he had no reason to gain anything from it. You were no one. You had no money, no valuable possessions, no network, nothing special at all. You were just one more _no one._

In fact, Cap was the only one generally interested in you and your well-being, and it was the one and only reason you kept messaging him despite his long absences. You suspected he had some kind of a hero complex because you had no other explanation whatsoever. 

“Thank you for everything, Captain. I really missed you.”

“I’m glad you did, little star.”

With that you hid your phone in your bag and tried concentrating on those endless numbers in Excel columns. Your eyes were already hurting from just a quick look on the report.

By the end of the day you were totally drained again, barely having strength to take a ride home. Did you promise yourself to order food from the nearest store? Nope, not today. You thought you couldn’t even lift your finger when you threw your bag to the floor along with your shoes and went to lay on the couch, not even taking off your clothes. It felt like you ran a marathon - despite the fact you weren’t doing any sports for at least a year, your body failing to engage in whatever activity but just get you moving from one place to the other.

Captain once mentioned he needed to be in a pretty good form to keep doing his job, and you were a bit jealous. You really wanted to be able to just wake up and not feel like you were working the whole night, so remembering him talking about jogging in the morning was making you jealous. Why couldn’t you have what he had? 

“I feel like you’re not completely honest with me, honey.”

You barely smiled, looking at your phone. Cap was always so perceptive.

“I’m sorry. I’m not good, but I’m trying my best.”

“I know you do. Can I help you? Do you need money?”

Huffing, you rubbed your nose. It wasn’t the first time he offered to help you, though you had never accepted this kind of help. You felt like it would make you obliged to him, and you wanted none of that. 

“No, thank you, Captain. You’re too nice, you know? I’m worried someone will eventually take advantage of you.”

“I promise to be careful.”

Laughing, you got up and went to your room: you never knew whether he was joking or dead serious. Captain admitted once he just didn’t get how to use emojis. Thinking of him writing something like “I’m too old for all this”, you burst out laughing again.

“Are you sure I can’t help?”

“Yes, thank you. You’re already helping me. Sometimes I don’t even know why you keep doing it since I’m not the most responsive person on the Internet.”

“Because I love you.”

Dropping your phone to the bed, you just pushed your face into your pillow. You wished he was serious, but your knew he wasn’t. Anyway, who would? He had never even seen or met you. Only teenagers believed they could truly love some strange dude they’d been talking to on Twitter.

You wished there was someone, anyone, who would be by your side. Maybe then it would be easier to go through all this and finally recover. However, you couldn’t be sure Captain was as good as you pictured him. It could be all a lie.

Forgetting to take your meds again, you drifted off to sleep still wearing your suit. It was only 7 pm, and you were so tired as if you were carrying rocks on your back the whole day. 

Nonetheless, you weren’t given time to sleep properly - in an hour you woke up from your door chime ringing and hurried so much you almost fell of your bed. Damn. Who could it be? You didn’t remember inviting anyone. Hell, you didn’t even have anyone who would want to visit you now. 

Forgetting about how you looked in your wrinkled suit and blouse, you ran to the door, opening it without even checking who had come. It must have been a mistake, you thought. Or could it be your neighbor who came to talk to you about something?

But it wasn’t an elderly man who lived in the apartment next to yours. It was someone else. Someone you only saw on TV and a few promotional posters you stumbled upon in the subway.

“Hello.”

Steve Rogers smiled at you as you struggled to understand whether you were still sleeping or awake. Steve Rogers? Captain America? At you door? Oh, you should have taken your meds.

Staring at him with your mouth half open, you couldn’t utter a single word. It just didn’t feel real, you thought when he watched you with such kind expression it could make you cry. Why was he here? What for? Looking at him glowing with a euphoric grin on his face, you suddenly realized you were still dressed in that suit, and your makeup was probably smeared by now. Damn, what a great coincidence.

“Why are you looking at me like that, little star?” The man asked joyfully, entering your apartment and almost pushing you away, a big grocery bag in his hand. “Are you alright?”

Little star. It was a username you had when you started texting Cap a few months ago. You had changed it multiple times after that, but he always called you that, saying it really suited you. But how did Steve Rogers know about that, and, more importantly, why would he need to know that?

Cap. Captain. Captain America.

_Oh shit._

“It can’t be.” You muttered, gripping your phone in your hand. “This just can’t be happening.”

Watching the man smiling at you, you felt nauseated and starting slowly losing control over your body, sliding onto the floor. Captain left the bag full of fruits and veggies immediately to help you to stay on your feet and guide you to the couch. Feeling his strong muscular arms holding you carefully, you started chewing your lips: apparently, Steve Rogers standing in the middle of your living room was real, and your meds weren’t at fault.

“You’re making me worried.” The man said as he helped you lay down on the couch and loomed over you, watching your face. “I see you’re not taking care of yourself at all. Do you want a glass of water? Do I need to call the doctor?”

You shook your head, staring at the hero intently while he bowed lower, touching your forehead with his lips.

“No fever, that’s good.” He mumbled and made you open your eye wide, then got back a little, giving you space. “I know you’re not talking your medication properly. Little star, this is no good.”

“How did you find me?’ You whispered, rubbing your eyes and smearing what was left your makeup completely.

Steve smiled. “It’s not as hard as you think, but you shouldn’t worry about it. I hope you are sorry for lying to me all this time.”

“W-what?”

“I see you can’t look after yourself like you should. Don’t worry, I’m not mad. I know it’s very hard for you, so I’ll be taking care of you instead. Give me just a minute to gather your belongings, dear.”

With that he smiled again and disappeared in your room as you stared at the ceiling in horror.

You certainly should have taken your meds.


	30. A Wicked Deed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huntsman!Bucky Barnes x Evil Queen!Reader
> 
> Every day you feel the darkness rising within you, and it frightens you to the core. But what can you do to keep it deep within you, stopping it from hurting your loved ones?

Staring at your tired face, all those superficial creases, dark circles under your puffy eyes, and chapped lips, you let out a sigh. Your insomnia was becoming insufferable, and even your handmaidens were now worried about you. What happened to that woman, once fresh as spring itself, they were whispering behind your back. You smirked at your reflection, looking at a wicked witch, not a genteel lady you were not so long ago. How did it happen to you?

You tried to stop thinking it was the girl’s fault. She was just a child who knew nothing of witchcraft and harbored no dark secrets from you. All alone now, she had only you to take care of her, and you had no right to fail her like her father did.

Dear Lord, you were truly going mad with each passing day. After the King was consumed by the same plague that killed his first wife ten years ago, you struggled to keep the darkness away. Ruling a kingdom falling apart was no easy challenge, yet you accepted it with confidence. You did what you could to treat your people fairly and provide for them, reducing taxes, giving housing to the most unfortunate ones, employing healers and magicians from your home country to stop the plague from spreading. Of course, it took a heavy toll on you. Despite having a big court and dozens of advisers of all kinds, you were all alone: those people were useless, caring about their needs more than anyone else’s.

There was also the girl, Snow White, a daughter of the King, who was an orphan now. She was only eleven. Leaving her in care of handmaidens was unclever since you knew who they were going to raise - a spoiled child who knew no love, no kindness, nothing to keep her standing on her own two feet and rule the kingdom as she should, the only successor to the throne as you failed to give a new heir to the King.

She was only a little girl, scared of darkness, admiring you despite the harsh words you didn’t spare her. She needed you. You were the only one who could give her some motherly love.

And with each day you were failing to do so, concerned with her getting prettier and prettier with each day while you were withering despite being a young woman. Were you worries at fault? Your responsibilities as a queen? They were draining you, for sure. But why, why were you thinking of this little girl as if it was all her fault? She had nothing to do with it, yet you kept looking at her like she was your worst enemy.

“My queen.”

You turned your head only to see your Huntsman on his knees, bowing to you. The only one truly loyal to you; the only one you had ever sought advice from. James Barnes, the man who had saved both Snow White and you from death in the woods when you carriage had broken, and you wandered the forest, hungry and cold. He had been close to you ever since that day.

“Hello, Huntsman.” You sent him a weak smile, turning away from a large mirror you kept staring at day after day, watching your beauty perish. “Do you have good news for me?”

“I do, my queen.” He answered and stared at you, still on his knees. “The dwarves will be arriving shortly.”

“Good.”

You reached to take the box made of ebony and gold, its top decorated with intricate ornaments and portraying elves and faeries. You had ordered it as a present for a little girl, your Snow White, the one who you were sending away with dwarves to protect her from the darkness rising within you. Still loving her even with your rotten heart, you wanted to keep her safe, give her the future she deserved, not become an evil stepmother to her. You knew well what it meant to be raised by one.

Opening the box and staring at the pile of letters you wrote for the girl to read - one for a year, on the day of her birth - you touched the medallion you once got from your own mother as a child. You wanted Snow White to have it, along with other gifts you put in the box for her. You did all you could, sending her away to the woods where she would to be taught by the fair folk and protected by dwarves - from you, from all the ones who would attempt hurting her.

You hoped to find a way to regain your sanity in the meanwhile. You weren’t born evil, you were only a woman who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, unloved by her people, scared, and lost.

Wiping away a tear, you gave the box to the Huntsman, avoiding his gaze. You knew you couldn’t look weak in his eyes. He was your subject just like all of them, and he needed a queen, not one more damsel in distress.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who in this land is fairest of all?” You snorted, looking at your reflection again and furrowing your brows at how unnaturally dark your eyes became - you saw the blackness of a deep abyss in them.

“You, my queen, are fairest of all.“ The Huntsman behind you whispered, and you turned to face him again, surprised at his words. Didn’t he see what you had become? Was he trying to sugarcoat it? Among those liars you considered him the most honest man.

Well, maybe he simply pitied you.

“The girl will be gone soon, my queen, and so will be your worries.” His concerned expression made you soften a little, and you shook your head, touching the heavy fabric of your dress made of golden threads.

“You know well it is no fault of hers. Something is happening to me. Something I cannot control, Huntsman.” You admitted bitterly, motioning him to finally stand up - you didn’t like seeing him on his knees in front of you like some page. “I still love her, my poor little girl.”

“Then what you are doing is for the best, my queen, for she will be safe and sound.”

You missed the darkness in his gaze, staring at the box in his hands and those beaten up gloves made with black leather he wore. Huntsman was right, you thought. It was for the better - you were afraid one day you would wake up and realize you are unable to hold the venom going up your throat. The girl didn’t deserve to see that.

The night when dwarves took her away you cried, kissing her cheek like a loving mother would, caressing her hair and promising to come take her back once she would learn the fair folk sorcery. You could only hope she would cure you if you wouldn’t be able to deal with that darkness consuming you by yourself. “Stay far, far away from me, dearest child.” You said, hiding your face wet with tears under the black veil. “Grow strong, gain wisdom, don’t lose your heart.”

_Don’t lose your heart like I did._

Grieving the loss of the only one who truly loved you with all her heart, you chewed your lips to bits, thinking of Snow White as if she had just died. You clenched your fists so hard you could feel the blood gathering under your nails. However, before the carriage finally departed, a dwarf walked down to you, bowing his bald head in respect - he was the oldest among the seven, their unnamed leader, you supposed.

“Your Majesty,” he said quietly, barely moving his lips. “Forgive my impudence, but I beg you to listen.”

“You have my attention.” You slightly bowed your head to him, too, showing him you honored his advice.

Keeping looking around, like he was checking somebody out in that little crowd of handmaidens and guards and maids and pages, the dwarf whispered, “Oh good heaven, you are under an evil enchantment, Your Highness. Some dark force is trying to rule over you. Be careful, my queen, for this sorcerer is a mighty one.”

With that he left, taking your dear little princess away, leaving you alone with your enemies, frightened and completely disorientated.

Who put a spell on you? What a wicked soul sought to make your life even more insufferable it already was? Was it someone from the court? Someone who wished to acquire your power as a queen to rule over the kingdom? It was the case, indeed. You needed to start a witch hunt.

That evening you laid in bed with a golden goblet filled with the finest wine, your face puffy from tears. Oh, what wouldn’t you give for someone’s advice what to do, how to take these charms off and become your old self again. Despite being afraid of the sorcerer that dwarf told you about, you felt a little relieved - you weren’t guilty of hating your little girl, a poor orphan you sent away. It were the charms that made the darkness inside you grow.

“My queen.” Huntsman’s voice forced you to wake up from your dream-like state, urging you to cover your beautiful nightgown of blue silk. You rarely called Huntsman to come at this hour, and you certainly remembered you had not done it today.

“I excuse your audacity, but I want you to ask for my permission before entering my chamber at night.” You demanded, putting a deep violet robe to hide your body: for goodness sake, what was he thinking, coming to you like that? If some handmaiden saw him, the next morning everyone in the court would keep telling the Queen shares her bed with Huntsman.

“This won’t be needed soon, my queen, I assure you.”

He was indeed out of his mind, talking to you like that! As you stood up, a little tipsy from all the wine you drank, trying to drown your sorrows, you suddenly realized Huntsman was already towering above you, standing so close no one but King could. How dare he? When you had just sent your little girl away, when you needed help and guidance, he-

“You will succumb to my charms, sweetheart, and I won’t need to hide beneath this silly façade any longer.” He muttered to you, lowering his head to inhale the scent of your hair, kissing your cheeks, holding your arms when you tried pushing him away. He was too strong, of course, and you ended up beneath him when he threw you back to your bed, getting on top of you and kissing your tears away. “Do not be scared, my queen. I do not seek your power or the empty treasury of your kingdom. I came not to steal from you, but give you gifts no one else ever will, and you will accept them, whether you want it or not.”

As he stripped you of your robe and the nightgown of blue silk you wore, you cried out in pain, closing your eyes and feeling his arms on your body, his lips claiming your mouth, his chest pressing into yours, leaving your breathless.

You would succumb to his charms just as he said, you thought, for he was not the Huntsman but an iron-fisted warlock who would bend you to his will.


	31. Feel Lucky Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> surgeon!Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> He just needed a little incentive to help you.

Reaching for your bag and grabbing your phone with trembling fingers, you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second. God, you still had hard time understanding what was going on. How could this be happening to you? After everything you had done, how could this be happening?

Opening a new tab, you held your breath, thinking what Bucky would say. You left him just two weeks ago when your aunt’s rehabilitation was over, and you could finally go home, moving back to your town. All these months were probably the toughest in your entire life, and you when you hoped everything was going back to normal, you realized it wasn’t that easy, actually.

Oh, you did everything Dr, Barnes was telling you like a good girl. You were that perfect little girl for him, so he kept his part of the deal, helping your aunt with getting her surgery. Well, he was a really good surgeon, you couldn’t deny the truth. He was doing a great job helping his patients get back on track even if other doctors deemed them helpless. The only problem you had with Bucky was that you had to be his little doll in exchange for his service.

But you kept your mouth shut, knowing your aunt’s life was at stake. She was your only family, and you were ready to sell you soul to the Devil if it could help to save her.

Anyway, one day it would end, you thought. You lived far enough for this relationship to finish - besides, Bucky had never talked about the status of it. Gladly, he wasn’t married or engaged, so you tried convincing yourself you were just hooking up with him for a short period of time. Things like that happened to many people, right? There was no need to feel guilty.

Yet you did the last night you spent together when he was kissing and holding you like he was your loving husband. Besides, when you parted, it didn’t feel like it was the end since Bucky behaved like you were just leaving for some long trip. Why? Since he was working to death, often having operations lasting as long as 12 hours straight, you doubted Bucky could spare so much time travelling to you just for a quickie.

But maybe he knew things wouldn’t go well upon your return home. You hoped he didn’t, because it seemed like he really cared about the health of your aunt.

Staring at your phone, you closed the tab and opened the other one to send him a message instead of email. You couldn’t wait or pretend to be polite when you needed just one thing from him. You were ready to trade it for whatever he wanted.

“Bucky, can I call? I need you.”

That was all you sent him, hoping he wasn’t in the middle of a surgery: as most good surgeons, he was spending countless hours in the operating room and only a few of them in his office, talking to patients or giving an online consultation. You still felt very conflicted, knowing what he did to you wasn’t right, but you were eternally grateful to Bucky for saving so many people.

The next moment your phone rang, and you saw his name pop up on the screen. You didn’t expect him to be that fast, so you closed your eyes again for a second, gathering yourself, and brought the phone to your ear.

“Hi doll. You alright?”

You held your breath again, feeling the tears coming up. Shit, you needed to concentrate.

“Hi Bucky. I’m alright, but, um...”

____________________

Instead of a few minutes, it actually took way longer because you were crying like a little girl, suffocating when you tried telling the man what had happened. Funny, but he was the only one with whom you could be honest about this. You could never cry in front of your aunt, that poor woman who’s been through so much and needed your help more than anyone else. Your friends? They’d be happy to have you talking to them, but you just couldn’t. The words always got stuck somewhere in your throat when you tried telling them about all the things that were happening to you.

When you finally finished, wiping your tears away, you heard Bucky being silent on the other side of the phone. You got frightened immediately, thinking whether he actually still cared. Was Bucky too tired to listen? Was he fed up with you? What if he already moved on to the next “very grateful” girl? What if...

“I’m certainly not the most powerful man in the country,” he said as you whimpered, covering your mouth with your hand, “but I can make a life of a doctor refusing to help his patient a living hell, sweetheart.”

Your mouth fell open at his words as you pressed your phone even closer to your ear. What? Was Dr. Barnes mad? His dangerously voice sounded like he was angry, but you could never be sure.

“He thinks the therapy I prescribed is some fucking joke, huh? Does he considers himself a better professional, maybe?” The man muttered to himself quietly, but you still caught it. “Oh, I know what I’m gonna do to him. Yeah, I sure do.”

“You mean you can help persuade him to continue her therapy?” You whispered, hoping Bucky really could do some magic and get things right again.

“No, your aunt doesn’t deserve this piece of shit to be her doctor. But rest assured, she’ll get her therapy, doll, I promise. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Was Bucky talking about your aunt’s doctor losing his license? Well, it was a pretty good thing, if anybody asked you. When the doctor was there to take care of his own ego instead than his patients, he certainly didn’t deserve his place in a hospital, you thought, chewing your lips to pieces.

God, Bucky was going to help you. Once again, he was there to save you when nobody else could.

“But you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone about this call, alright? If anyone’s asking, just tell you called because you missed me.” You could hear him laughing a little and immediately felt guilty - you didn’t call him often after your return back home. In fact, you only called him twice: after your arrival home and then last Friday when you had two glasses of wine. You just didn’t feel the need to talk to Bucky, thinking you two were done. “By the way, I really miss you, doll. What if I’d visit you in a few days or so?”

You did mind, but Dr. Barnes was going to have your aunt’s doctor fired by using his own connections, maybe not fully legally, actually, so you simply smiled and whispered you missed him, too, and that you’d be happy to finally see him after two long weeks. Anyway, what did you have to lose? You spent so much time having sex with him that you had no shame anymore, quite literally.

The next two days you spent home trying to relax were an utter nightmare. You didn't sleep or eat well, though always pretending you were alright every time your aunt asked you, smiling to her and mentally cursing yourself. The only thing you could do for her was wait for Bucky's help. At your age you expected you could somehow make a little more than just sleep with a doctor who did her surgery.

But what you didn’t expect was to to get a call from a hospital on the third day, a secretary informing your aunt was going to be transferred to another doctor. When you asked why it was happening, hoping to hear some dramatic story about your aunt’s now former doctor losing his license, the secretary told you the man actually got shot in the leg and was now in St. Mary Hospital, recovering from the assault. How come you didn't know about it, she asked you. Didn't you watch the news? You were too embarrassed to say you didn't, and a little shocked too, thinking it just couldn't be a coincidence. In fact, when you hanged up, the feeling of horror intensified as you thought about Bucky. It was him. It couldn't be anyone else, right? That's what meant when he said he knew what to do to that man. If he didn't have the means to have your aunt's doctor stripped of his licence, this was a fast way to get rid of him.

Wait, wait, it couldn't be true. It couldn't be. Bucky Barnes was a surgeon, not some gangster firing a gun at whatever man he didn't like. Besides, why would he do it for you, just some girl he had sex with? It was ridiculous to think he'd put at risk his own life and the life of all the patients who depended on him. No, no, your aunt's doctor was probably caught up in some nasty business by occasion, unlucky enough to be involuntarily involved in something that happened on the streets. How could you even think of Bucky like that? He literally saved your aunt's life. He wasn't there to hurt people but to help them.

That day you spent calming down you aunt who was worried what would happen to both her doctor and her. Though you knew Bucky wasn't a part of this, you were still scared to give him a call, not knowing what to expect. You just... just wanted good things to happen. To hear about her aunt's therapy continuing and her getting better, finally. It hurt so, so much to see her struggling day after day, forcing the meds down her throat, crying when you thought you couldn't see her, keeping to fight even when she had no strength left. You just wanted her to be healthy and safe, and you'd give anything you had for that to happen.

Bucky showed up the next day with flowers, not even giving you a call before. He was the one to tell you the therapy was approved, bringing your aunt to tears. How did he know? You weren't even informed whom she was transferred to. Anyway, did it really matter when she was so happy she brought a bottle of champagne she hid somewhere in the kitchen? Filling your glasses, she kissed Bucky's cheek, saying how much she owed him. You really hoped she didn't know what you were doing to make these things happen.

When she left you two to quickly make an apple pie for this improvised celebration, you awkwardly smiled at Bucky while sitting together with him on the couch. Mumbling sorry for not calling him much and trying to explain you were too stressed, you almost missed one more kiss he gave you on the lips, gently caressing the side of your face.

"I know, sweetheart." He said and touched your palm gently. "I'm not upset. I know it's been challenging for the two of you, but it's gonna get better now as this asshole is out of your way."

"You're... a little harsh." You laughed awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. "The man just got shot. It doesn't mean what he was doing was alright, but, ugh..."

"Come on, you have too much sympathy for someone like him." Suddenly, Bucky's tone turned grim as he let out a sarcastic laugh. "Why do you think I've done this for you? I get this man out of your way, and you don't even thank me properly but talk about him."

You got silent, staring at him, not knowing what to say. His bright blue eyes looked dark now as you stared at his gloomy face, afraid to talk, to even consider he really meant what he said. Bucky couldn't do it. He couldn't just do something so... so... you didn't even know how to call this. It was insane. It just couldn't be true.

"Please tell me you're joking." You whispered, your hands shaking a little while you stared at his handsome face. It got to be some mistake.

"Why would I?" Bucky tilted his head to the side, smiling to your aunt approaching you two with a plate filled with cheese. "I promised to take care of you, sweetheart, and I'll do my best. Remember, you have to do your best for your daddy, too."


	32. The Outsider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warlock!Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> A peasant girl, the fourth of five daughters, you seek for a job, unable to live in such poverty. You only find one place where someone is willing to take you in.
> 
> P.S. This is my Halloween story for all of you guys who are taking care during these harsh times! Thank you <3  
> P.P.S. I was inspired to write this after reading a couple of Slavic legends. Here’s a bit different take on spooky stories!

The house in front of you seemed much larger than any other you had seen around here, but it looked so gloomy and abandoned you decided no one truly lived here. However, in the next second you saw a dim light come on in one of the windows, and your aunt quickly moved forward to the large wooden door.

You didn’t like the last village she brought you to, searching for a place where somebody would take you, the fourth of five daughters. Not that you had the right to choose since your parents couldn’t provide for you, and you had no one who could marry you, a girl whose dowry was long taken from her. It didn’t help that you were nowhere as pretty as your eldest and second eldest sisters: they were already married to two wealthy villagers for a couple of years, but both of them only agreed to provide for your youngest sister. While the third one was able to find a job in the village where you grew up, you weren’t as lucky, forced to travel further.

These lands had always been poor, your aunt said when a woman she tried talking to closed the doors of her house in front of you two. No one needed one more mouth to feed even if you were ready to do whatever it takes to stay.

“Go to the last house on the street, the one close to the forest,” a woman said behind the door, her voice suddenly quiet. “If you’re that desperate.”

You didn’t like the tone of her voice, but your aunt was already dragging you away, searching for the house this woman was talking about. Anything was better than death from starvation, your aunt said.

Maybe she was right. You had nothing to lose, anyway.

When you stared at the huge house standing afar from all other ones, smaller and way older, you felt chills going up and down your spine. You didn’t like this place. It felt like even the clouds above this house were much darker than other ones up in the sky.

Was it all your imagination, maybe? In the end, you had been travelling the whole day long, and your feet were aching painfully. You couldn’t even imagine how your aunt felt, a woman three times older than you.

“Is anyone there?” She asked while banging the door loudly: you doubted anyone could hear you since the house was so enormously big.

“What do you want?”

The voice sounded so close as if the man answering your aunt stood right behind the door. You shivered, looking at your old worn out shoes with smooth soles in them. Apparently, the master of the house saw you walking from door to door and asking for a job. Considering how empty this place felt, maybe he truly needed someone to take care of the house.

“Do you need a girl servant to do the house choirs, master? My niece is hardworking and diligent. She can cook and clean, wash and mend your clothes, feed the cattle and work in the field,” your aunt almost sang, trying her best to make the man open his door.

“I only need batraks.” He barked at you, and you wondered how wealthy he was: did he own vast lands? Was he a captain wandering the sea on a big ship? But you saw no fields so big that many batraks would work there. There was no sea either, just a couple of rivers and swamps where a ship wouldn’t fit. What did he need batraks for, then?

“Won’t you even look at her, master? She’s a pretty, healthy young girl.” Your aunt made the last effort to make him open the door, and you smiled gloomily to yourself: you weren’t considered beautiful even in your best days; now, after several days of travel, eating nothing but stale brown bread, you should look truly horrible.

The stranger grunted behind the door, leaving the expression he was going to curse you both and walk away, but then you suddenly saw the door moving, and in a second you were staring at the tired, unshaven face of a man with long dark hair. His eyes were of such light blue color it made you hold your breath for a couple of seconds. He was tall, his shoulders broad; he was much wider in the chest than your father or brothers-in-law. The shirt he wore was dark as well as his pants. Was he in mourning? It only made sense if his wife died not so long ago, and that’s why this place felt so abandoned without a mistress.

Well, the stranger was certainly wealthy, you thought while observing the expensive fabric of his shirt and the beautiful embroidery on it. But why did he wear his hair so long? Wasn't it uncomfortable while working? Well, maybe he was a rich merchant, though you could hardly imagine to whom he was selling his goods - people in these lands could hardly afford even tabacco or decent clothes to go to church on Sundays.

For a few moments you were just staring at each other silently while your aunt struggled for words. You thought she was shocked by the man's appearance, too.

"I'll take her in." The stranger suddenly said, making you gasp. "I'll give her the roof above her head, and I'll feed her in exchange for her work until she finds someone to marry."

Someone to marry. It sounded almost mockingly - as if you could find yourself a husband while living in the house with a man who wasn't your relative - but at that moment you didn't really care about it. The stranger was taking you in. He said he'll provide for you. Dear Lord, you had finally found a place! Maybe you wouldn't even have to starve since your new master was so wealthy. Maybe he could even spare a coin to you some day so you'd go and buy something for yourself. You couldn't believe your luck!

"Thank you so much, master!" Your aunt exclaimed, clasping her hands together and looking at you like you had just won a prize. "Thank you! You won't regret it! She's a hard worker, indeed, and-"

"Yes, yes, I heard it the first time." He abruptly cur her off and opened the door, nodding to you to go inside. "Go now, it's late for a young girl to stand on the road at such hour. And you," he motioned to an elderly woman, "can go to shinok and spend a night there before going back. Tell a woman at the counter Barnes will pay for your stay."

Abashed, you looked at him in disbelief: was he really allowing your aunt to spend the night at shinok on his expense? Wait, truly? How was it possible? How rich did he have to be to do that?

Apparently, an elderly woman wasn't going to believe it, but the stranger had already dragged you inside and closed the heavy wooden door with a loud thud. There was no going back now.

Keeping your head low, you grasped the fabric of your worn out dress, waiting for your new master to say something, but he simply motioned you to follow him, and you abided. You did your best not to look around too much, but from you could see, this place was even larger than it seemed from outside: walls made with large wooden logs, somewhat dark and probably very old, while windows had very fine glass in them. Oh, you could barely imagine how much this cost. The only time you saw glass windows were when you passed an old golova's house, and even there the glass wasn't as good as here, so clear and clean you could see the dark forest behind the house.

"It's very late. You should go to sleep, and tomorrow morning we will discuss the details." The gloomy man said, making you shiver - you had already forgotten he was there, leading you somewhere up. "'Girl, can you even speak?"

"Yes, master." You said in haste, afraid he was going to force you back on the street if you didn't reply.

"Good."

Before going up wide wooden stairs, the stranger stopped near huge empty table, making you sit on a bench and moving over to a large cupboard with intricate foreign patterns carved on it. What was he doing? Before you built up the courage to ask it out loud, he was already handing you a cup filled with ale or something similar - you could feel the sweet smell of alcohol coming from a clay cup.

What? Ale for someone like you? You have heard of a tradition when an guest was offered a hot drink if coming late in the night, but you by no means were someone of such importance. You were just a peasant girl, so poor you had nothing but a little knapsack with your belongings. Why was your master treating you like you were golova's daughter?

"Are you going to take it or not?" His harsh voice made you snap out of your thoughts, and you grabbed a cup immediately, emptying it in a couple of seconds.

Oh. Ooooohhh. It wasn't ale. It was something much, much stronger - and certainly more expensive.

As you coughed, holding a hand against your throat, the stranger suddenly laughed in his mighty voice as he stared at you, wiping tears of joy out the corners of his eyes. Well, how did he expect you to know he was going to give you something so strong? You were certainly unworthy of it.

"Alright, let's get you to bed before you fall on the floor and sleep right there." He grinned at you, guiding you to a small room upstairs and closing its door before you had time to ask him a single question.

Only next morning you realized he could easily make you drunk and take over you, but when you are fully awake, you see no marks on your body, and nothing hurts apart from your legs after hitting all the cobblestones on your way here. But why would a rich man like your mysterious master Barnes take some dirty peasant girl like you? Surely, he could enjoy the company of way more refined women.

You didn't know how it turned out your master has so much cattle, but you saw a cow, several ships and a big angry ram waiting for you in a huge barn. There were also two dogs - thankfully, friendly to you - and something that reminded you of a cat, but you're not sure since this little furry thing escaped before you had a chance to look at it. Dear Lord, there were lots of work for you here! Especially because there's no one else but your master living in this place all by himself. How did he survive here alone? He certainly didn't look like someone who knew how to deal with such large household.

Besides that, you had to take care of this enormous house with lots of rooms - all dark and dusty as if they were locked for decades. Thankfully, you didn't have to cook today, though you didn't know how come there was so much food here. Did your master order it from that shinok where your aunt was supposed to sleep?

Oh, your dear aunt. She didn't come back the next day - of course, she had no reason to, but you were still sad she had left you. Now it was just you and your gloomy master who didn't spare you many words, locking himself away in a room he called his cabinet or something like that.

Forcing yourself to adapt - unless you wanted to come back in the house of your parents and starve to death - every day you woke up long before the sunrise and left to feed the cattle. Your also milked the cow and cleaned it, then the sheep and that damn ram - oh Lord, this stubborn angry animal would be the death of you one day. Thankfully, then the shepherd came, and you could start with the house choirs. By this time your master was usually awake, and he called you to share a meal with him. You were very surprised when he did it for the first time, but then you thought he felt so lonely he was ready to have even someone like you sitting at the table with him.

He was a strange man, your master. He had never cut or wear his hair up since the time you came to work for him, and he always wore the dark, but elegant clothes. A few days ago you even found a mantle in his closet while gathering clothes to clean. Then there were also those books written in a language you couldn't understand with some scary drawings... What were these books for? Who was your master? Of course, you couldn't ask him, too scared to even talk to that man who kept everything to himself, too.

But he fed you. The room he gave you was small, but very warm - it even had a window, so you could watch the street in the late evening when the moon was shining high in the night sky. A few days ago master Barnes even gave you a pretty red ribbon so you could wear it when you went to the church.

He never went with you. Never, even on a holiday. You wandered how come the villagers were alright with it: in the place where you were born they’d tear him apart, claiming he was nechisty - the man possessed by an evil spirit. But here it was as if people weren’t willing to talk about your master at all. Was it because he was so rich and they feared him? Probably so, you thought. As for his reason for not going to church, maybe it was because he didn’t believe in God after the death of his wife. He never talked about her either, but every day he was dressed in all black, mourning her.

However, occasionally you were catching him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking at him. There was something... strange in the way he was watching you, his eyes dark as the sky before heavy raining.

“If today someone will come searching for me, let them in.” Your master said, grabbing a cup with warm milk and then a piece of cheese before disappearing in the hall.

Oh, was he expecting someone today? It was interesting. There had never been a single soul in here except your master and you. Who was coming? Another rich merchant? Master’s friend? Someone important? You bet it was someone important if your master was willing to let them in.

However, since he didn’t tell you anything else, you barely knew how you should act when this special guest would appear. Well, your aunt was teaching you how low you should bow and what were the words you had to say, but you weren’t sure if all this was suitable for someone as important as your master’s guest. So, you tried your best scrubbing the floor and wiping away the dust, then going and washing yourself, your hair including. Finally, you wore a clean set of clothes and covered your head with a new, but modest scarf, wondering whether it was the right thing to do - you didn’t want that guest to think you, a simple maid, were showing off.

But when an elderly woman dressed in furs and wearing lots of shiny jewelry came to your door, you realized it was the right choice.

“Well?” The woman demanded impatiently, and you realized her expensive dress with intricate embroidery was covered in mud she tried to hide so hard beneath the furs. Apparently, she had to travel for a long time - she even walked by foot here! And she was very much pissed off, you could read on her face covered by makeup: her cheeks were so dark she probably used all the beetroot she could find.

“Good evening, panna.” You bowed deeply to her, stepping aside so she could enter, and then said in a calm voice, “My master asked me to send his apologies for not being able to meet you himself. Please, come in.”

Apparently, calling her panna, a young but wealthy woman, was a good thing to do as she seemed to calm down a little, still visibly irritated but somewhat pleased by your welcome. After you brought her to the dining room, you nervously thought what you had to do: master Barnes didn’t tell that you should feed the guest or give her anything at all. But leaving someone sitting at the empty table was unacceptable even in your peasant family! Dear Lord, what could you do?

Glancing at the woman becoming angry again, you sneaked off to a cupboard, taking the bottle with that sweet alcohol your master gave you on your first night here. Maybe mixing a little with some apple juice would be alright? In the end, he wouldn’t see if you used just a few spoons, or so you hoped.

When you looked back at the woman again, you filled half of the cup with that drink, praying master wouldn’t whip you for it.

“Not bad,” the woman murmured quietly as she drank, and you quickly filled the table with fresh cheese, bread and sour cream while keeping your head low as a sign of respect. You did good so far, judging by the way this woman relaxed once she finished her drink.

By the time your master came back, she had finished the cheese and was talking to you about the days of her youth while you were nodding or shaking your head when you had to, not raising your voice not to upset her.

“Sorry for being late, lady Agnieszka.” He said as if he wasn’t sorry at all, not bothering with looking at the table with half-empty plates. “Let us proceed.”

You expected her to get angry again, telling him an important lady like her shouldn’t had been forced to wait for so long, but, oddly, she looked confused when she saw him, surprised, and then her expression turned happy as she stood up from a bench and followed your master as if he had charmed her.

God, who was he? Why was he so important someone as her would be travelling by foot - maybe not the whole way, but at least a part of it? Taking care of the table, you sighed: you would never ask him, anyway.

They spent way less time together than the lady was waiting for him, you thought when you saw her again coming down the stairs. For a couple of seconds she looked much younger than when she came, but you released your mind from this thought, sure it was just a play of light. Besides, you were so tired you ended up sleeping in your working clothes.

“Yesterday lady Agnieszka complimented me on finally finding a good servant.” Your master told you next morning after you were done with the cattle. “She wasn’t even half as irritating as usual. I guess I have to thank you for it.”

Gaping at him, you thought whether he just complimented you or it was all in your imagination. Really? He wasn’t mad at you for taking that bottle? Maybe he didn’t know about it yet? You very much hoped so.

“You can keep doing the same every time someone’s coming to see me.”

After that, he disappeared in the hall again, leaving you to your thoughts as you struggled to comprehend what was happening.

But you did as he told you the next time a guest came to your door, a wealthy villager twice younger than the lady who was here the last time. You poured slightly less drink in his cup, yet he was so happy as if you gave him the whole bottle. Then a couple of young pannas came by, giggling at the sight of master Barnes once he came, and then a scribe from a village next to this one, then a rich widow from a city far, far away... people kept coming more and more, and all of them went to his cabinet in a good mood, feeling respected since you were always welcoming them with food and a drink.

It seemed you were doing a good job - until a batrak showed up at your door, an elderly man who looked so thin you realized he was starving. Was he supposed to work for your master, too? But before you decided to offer him at least some milk, master Barnes had already took him to the cabinet. And, although you waited and waited and waited until they came back, the old batrak had never showed up as if he vanished into thin air.

Where was he? You suspected he would stay in the house if he was going to work here, but when you asked your master where you should put the batrak to sleep, he simply said an old man left.

How come? Did he jump out of the window? No, it was silly. He was certainly too old for that. But where was he, then?

You had a very bad feeling about that, yet you still said nothing to your master. You didn’t need to bother him with your silly questions. What you needed was a roof above your head.

“Today’s guest is special.” Your master said the other night when you thought you could finally return to your room. “When you open the door for him, look at your shoes and never put your head up. Once he enters, turn your back at him and serve food to him like that until I return and take him to my room. Do you understand?”

You didn’t, really, but it didn’t matter anyway. You just had to do your job just as he said, no questions asked, though deep inside you had already guessed who your master were, and God, you wished you were wrong.

 _“Don’t look at him,”_ you thought when you opened the door to the one who had knocked, keeping your eyes down. A shiver ran down your spine when you heard a nasty giggle - there was something animalistic in it, but you kept your mouth shut, always averting your eyes.

You were safe. You were safe. Your master would never put your life at risk because you were a decent worker and he often complimented your work. You were safe. You were safe.

Dear Lord, you hoped your master was close, unwilling to spend one more second with the guest who came to the house today. The sounds this creature made while eating the food you brought were _disgusting_ , and you felt nauseated every time it opened its mouth. What did it look like? You only saw its legs, and they certainly belonged to a human being. But the head... Oh, no. You wouldn’t look. You would never look at it.

Time was passing slow as you stared at the cupboard, unable to turn to the creature sitting at the table or, worse, sit in front of it. You were so, so tired, yet you couldn’t do anything until your master was here. Why did you have to serve this beast who was spilling its drink on a table like some pig? God, why-

When you realized you were staring at the man with a head of a pig, a couple of dirty horns sticking out its forehead, you yelled so loud your master had to put his hand over your mouth to shut you up. The next second he was dragging you upstairs to your room, locking the door and shouting angrily at his guest while the creature was giggling, certainly having fun. Why couldn't you understand what your master was saying to his guest? It seemed like the words were familiar, but you just weren't able to catch them. Were you still screaming out of horror? You had this creature's pig face in front of your eyes even when you closed them.

Apparently, you had fainted since you didn’t remember what had happened after your master went down to the dining room. Thank Lord you did before you finally losing your mind.

Oh, you should run, you thought the first thing in the morning once you woke up. You should run for good and leave this place before your master did something to you because you had broken his rule: you looked into this horrid creature's face. You still didn't know what it was, but you weren't eager to learn. You needed to leave.  
“You should have told me you are not human, master.” You exhaled as you dropped a piece of veal on the table, your hands shaking badly. You had finally said that, but it didn’t matter. Since you couldn’t sneak out of the house before he caught you, he would certainly kill you now.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Your master was even more grim than usual when you sneaked into kitchen before the sunrise. “Have I not been clear? You should have kept your eyes down.”

For a second you froze on the spot, cursing yourself for your greediness: if only you didn't come to steal some food before running away, you could already be far from this damned house.

“Why wouldn’t I be human?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Because warlocks aren’t human. They sell their souls to the Devil and become _nechisty_.”

You nervously stared at your shoes as you heard the man laughing at you: you rarely saw him in a cheerful mood, but now it didn’t bring you pleasure like before. He was going to murder you right here right now. Could he take your soul? Would God protect you before the warlock stained it? Oh no, oh no. What have you done? Why didn’t you think of it before?

“I am _human_ , little bird. But I am a warlock, too, and don’t you tell me you didn’t know.” His grim smirk grew wider as you chewed your lips to pieces. “And stop thinking I’ll hurt you. I could have taken your soul once you stepped into my house, but I don’t need it. Batraks’ souls are of more value to me: they have suffered more than girls like you.”

You took a step back, tears streaming down your face as you thought of a poor staving old man who hadn’t returned from your master’s cabinet. He didn’t deserve such a horrible end at the hands of a heartless nechisty.

“Don’t cry, little bird. It’s not my fault you decided to show your pretty face to my guest yesterday, so now you can’t leave.”

“Will you... f-feed me to him?”

The man in front of you sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

“You are a property of Winter Soldier, dear. No one will dare to take you away from me.”


	33. Crimson Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vampire!Steve Rogers x Reader
> 
> Living in the world where most lands are governed by the Noble, ancient vampires who shed human blood simply for their own amusement, you try leading a quiet and secluded life along with your mother. Sadly, you aren’t prepared when a vampire comes to your town.
> 
> P.S. When I was younger, I really, really loved Vampire Hunter D. I watched the movie again yesterday, and here’s the result ahahah.

It was way past midnight, but you couldn't force yourself to sleep, tossing and turning in your comfy bed while thinking of your travel tomorrow. You were supposed to leave the town for the first time in years to visit your grandmother who lived in the Northern Frontier Sector, and now you dreamt of how you were going to embrace her, kiss her cheeks despite her scolding you for not behaving properly in public. You hadn't seen her in 7 years. After the incident, you had never even once left the town, and your grandmother could hardly travel so far due to her age. Of course, you kept exchanging letters, but how could a cold letter, though written with great respect, replace a live communication?

While you kept wondering how your encounter would go, all of a sudden it felt cold under your cozy cotton blanket, and you reluctantly got up to take a huge comforter out of your heavy wooden chest. Why was it freezing tonight even with the windows closed? You were just in the middle of September. To be honest, you hardly remembered the last time the weather was so bad as you wrapped a comforter around your trembling shoulders, thinking whether you have to take your winter nightgown instead of light muslin one you were wearing now.

Throwing a glance at your window, you saw the frosted panes and furrowed your brows, refusing to believe it. Dear Lord, you lived in the Western Frontier Sector, not far to the North! Was it really going to snow out of nowhere tonight? As you moved closer to look at an empty street, you realized that a huge cross on top of a building on the other side started crumpling with a disgusting sound as if it were made of paper, not pure silver to protect citizens from the creatures of the night. Several crosses on the buildings down the street had been destroyed, too. Quickly, you looked down only to find the flower beds withering within seconds despite your beautiful roses blooming just a couple of hours ago. Now they all turned black.

You stilled on the spot, unable to believe your eyes and covering your ears from that horrifying noise. You had only seen something like that once, and it was the time when most villagers had already been dead, turned into beasts without a soul who craved for blood as much as their masters did. That night you had lost your beloved father as you fled your house in a rush, just a little child back then, and, once you arrived in the town, had never even once left your new home.

The crumpled crosses, dead flowers and a sudden temperature drop could mean only one thing: a vampire had come to the town. It wasn't some upyr, oh no, it was one of the Nobles, maybe even an Elder if you were unlucky.

Dear Lord, what a Noble wanted in a peaceful town like this? There were neither treasures nor mechanisms of the ancient, nothing that could potentially interest a Noble. Except that they might be simply eager to shed human blood for their own amusement...

Before you screamed at the top of your voice to wake up everyone around, you heard the sound of a large mirror in your room breaking, and then felt somebody's strong grip on your throat despite no one being in front of you. The world turned black before you uttered a single word.

_______________

Moving a heavy crimson curtain a bit so you could look out the window, you gasped, watching the corn fields far beneath looking like neat pieces of cloth. The view was incredible! You had never seen anything like this before, though you certainly didn't remember travelling in such fine carriage ever before either. It was truly stunning, made of black steel, shining in the sunlight as if it only been made yesterday. Steven laughed when you said it out loud, explaining that this carriage had been more than a century old. Apparently, the Nobility's carriages were miraculous since you couldn't find even a single scratch on the surface.

"Be careful, sweetheart." The man behind your back said, gently bringing you closer to him and further from the window, curtain falling back and hiding the two of you from the outside world. "Night does not fall yet."

"Forgive me my curiosity. I have never seen anything as magnificent." You smiled sheepishly at the handsome blonde-haired, blue-eyed man in a long black cape with red lining.

He let out a low chuckle, taking your hand and kissing it briefly while you forgot how to breathe for a second, deeply embarrassing by such outpouring display of affection. You lead a rather quiet secluded life in the town, pretty much never being around men of your age: your mother was going to choose a respectable husband for you herself, so you never worried about it before. Now, however, you felt ashamed for being so close to a man despite loving him dearly. Oh, what would your mother say if she saw you now? Wouldn't she be worried? Would she approve of your marriage to a No-

You blinked as you stared at the handsome man's pale face, feeling all your worries fading away. As long as you stayed with the love of your life, nothing else mattered, right?

"If that is what you wish, we will travel by air a lot more right after I present you at Western Frontier Court, sweetheart." His deep, silky voice made you let out a nervous chuckle as you felt your cheeks growing hot. "My, aren't you adorable?"

"Please, Steven, stop it!" You furrowed your brows as he grinned at you, baring his sharp fangs you paid no attention to. "I cannot believe I am getting married to you so soon. It feels... strange. A little unsettling."

"And why is that?" There was some wariness to his voice.

"It's just... I have never imagined myself being married to anyone. Surely, I thought of having a family at some point, but it was so distant. I have never even pictured myself close to a man, let alone a High Lord like you." You admitted honestly, biting your lower lip and averting his gaze. "You have never been married before, too, have you? Aren't you frightened even the slightest bit?"

"A little." He answered too soon, yet you disregarded it as well. "But I have no doubts we will make a good couple, sweetheart. I will cherish you like no other man ever would."

Embarrassed to the point your face was on fire, you decided to drop it, not knowing how a nobleman like Steven Grant Rogers could have an audacity to say such things. He was completely shameless! You hoped he was going to be more reserved while presenting you at court; you pictured your grandmother fainting if she heard him speaking like now.

What was Western Frontier Court like? You had never been there, not than any human ever could: as far as you knew, not even all vampires could serve the Nobility living in the high castle surrounded by mountains. You heard its peaks were covered with snow all year round.

"Have the king ever visited your castle?" You suddenly asked, back to your curious self.

Steven's face became even paler. "He did on several occasions, but it was a long time ago way before I was even born. I have only seen him once, and I do not think I will ever forget this encounter."

"Oh, is he as frightening as the legends say?"

"You cannot describe it with words, sweetheart. But do not be worried, he had been asleep for more than a thousand years now, and he surely won't wake up just to attend some Noble's marriage." A faint smile twisted Steven's lips as he drop a soft kiss to your forehead. "Actually, please do not refer to him as a king. The Nobles call him the Great One."

"Oh, I see. Thank you." Nodding, you turned your face back to the window covered by a crimson curtain, biting your lip again. "Can I watch the sunset a little? I won't be long, I promise."

"As you wish, sweetheart. Please come back to me once you are done, it is going to be a long night."

Gesturing to the large black coffin laying in the middle of your carriage, the man brushed his cold soft lips against your cheek and got up from his seat, smiling at you watching him. You remembered being very unhappy once you learnt there was only one coffin: you had never thought you would lay close to your betrothed with your head on his chest before your marriage. How terribly bold it was of Steven to make you sleep so close to him! However, you were content he had never even once tried touching you inappropriately, always treating you with respect: he said he admired your purity and innocence while not many Noble women were bothered by them.

Once he got inside the coffin, you lifted the curtain again, squinted as rays of bright light pierced the darkness of the carriage. Oh, how incredibly beautiful was the sunset in front of you. You had seldom seen such lovely sight as this. Would you miss the sun once you reach the high castle? You surely would, you thought. Hopefully, your betrothed would keep his promise to travel with you, and when he fell asleep during the day, you would walk in daylight all by yourself.

As you kept staring at the bright sky coloured in orange and pink, all of a sudden you thought why did you have to live in the high castle with Steven while your home was far away from the white mountains, in a little human town where you spent the last several years. Oh, right, you were engaged to the Overseer of the Western Frontier Sector, the highest Noble guarding the lands where you were born and raised. He was a peerless warrior and a fierce leader, a vampire respected by other Nobles.

A vampire? Steven was a vampire? Why would you be engaged to a vampire, let alone the Noble? The Overseer of the lands you were born and raised, the one who had taken advantage of those poor humans living in the Western Frontier Sector and let other Nobles ravage your cities and villages, destroying everything on their way.

You were engaged to the vampire overlord, a ruthless, cold-blooded being who could wipe out every human in these lands if he desired so. No, he was not your betrothed, the man you promised to marry willingly. He was the one who kidnapped you from your own bed at night, casting some spell over you to make you forget who you were.

You clamped a hand around your mouth to stop the pathetic sounds you were making as you cried, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Dear Lord, why was the Overseeker doing it to you? What could he gain from this cruel game? Seemingly nothing, except for having some fun with a silly human girl. But that what the Nobles were doing once they got bored, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction, you thought, happy you were given a chance to escape - even if it cost you your own life, it was still for the better.

"The Overseeker of the Southern Frontier Sector did, not that I expect you to know. Now, please, come back here. You had enough time watching the sunset."

You couldn't believe your eyes, watching him say it with such confidence. Was he willing to keep playing his twisted game even when his sweet facade fell?

"Why do you pretend as if my death matters to you? You will kill me soon anyway. Does it bring you so much pleasure to murder one more pathetic human?"

"I won't kill you, sweetheart. It has never been my intention."

There was something to his voice, some emotion you struggled to describe that made you feel bitter and regretful. Was it all truly going to end like this? You were so young, supposed to have your whole life ahead of you, now faced with a choice to either let a vampire consume you or jump out the carriage and fell to your death.

"Than what was it? I assume you have been living for more than thousands of years. Aren't you a little too old for playing these games still?" You chocked on a sob, barely containing your tears as you trembled in front of the Overseeker.

"I am not playing a game." He admitted tiredly, suddenly taking the black glove off his hand. "All I wish for is a loving wife who can bear my children and bring peace to my lands. I have been wandering human cities for a great while before I found you, strong enough to carry a dampiel after a few genetic enhancements. Please, do not struggle. I have not come to make you suffer eternal torment."

For a couple of seconds you stared at him with your mouth slightly open, unable to utter a single word. You had expected the vampire to say anything but this. Was it still a game? Now you hoped it was because even being drained till the last drop of blood was better than carrying a dampiel, a child of both vampire and human, feared and loathed greatly by both races. When you recovered, however, you quickly turned the door handle and pushed the door, willing to wait no longer.

But the door did not give to your pressure. To your horror, it stayed still as if it were a solid piece of steel.

Feeling the iron grip of the Overseeker's fingers on you shoulder, you yelped as he dragged you back to his coffin with force, closing the lid before you had a chance to escape. The next second his fingers were on your neck, suffocating you before you lost consciousness just like the night when Steven Grant Rogers kidnapped his human beloved.


	34. Boy in the castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> king!Steve Rogers x princess!Reader
> 
> The new King could do so much worse things to you, the only woman belonging to the old royal dynasty.

When coup d'etat had happened - for the first time in centuries - your old nanny almost had a heart attack, locking you two in your chamber high up in the tower and barricading the window. The bastard boy would kill you, she kept repeating over and over until your head hurt. He is wicked as the Devil himself, she said, holding a heavy fireplace poker in her old shaky hands as a weapon. He will stab you in the back as he did to your royal father or poison you like he poisoned the Queen. 

That time you thought it would be much easier to push you throw the window and make you fall from the tower instead. Why bother with a knife or a poison? But you didn’t voice over your thoughts to your old nanny, knowing well her old heart wasn’t strong enough for this conversation. Strangely, you felt nothing hearing of the death of your parents. From your books you knew people were ought to mourn their families, but sadness had never come to you, anyway. Could it be because you only saw the King and Queen several times a year since you had been three years old? Maybe so.

Nevertheless, your nanny kept talking and talking about the dangers waiting for you outside of your room: the new King would murder anyone who posed a threat to him, and he had most likely already killed your younger brother, a true heir to the throne. You shrugged your shoulders at her words in return - you saw the boy as much as you did your parents. Despite being both a princess and King’s and Queen’s firstborn, most of the time you were confined to your chamber up in the tower where the only one serving you was your old nanny, a woman who had been taking care of you since the time you were born. You only encountered other people on special occasions like your honored brother’s birthday or the first day of a new year when you were allowed to leave your chamber.

You couldn’t feel sorry for those the new King had killed - the one who had never felt compassion from others barely knew what it meant to care about another human being. Of course, you loved your nanny, that foolish old woman who still slapped your back hard if you didn’t sit straight in your chair while reading, but you had long found peace with the thought that one day she would die, too, leaving you all alone. You weren’t scared of that. You had always been alone, locked away and forgotten even by the faithful servants of the King.

Maybe that was why you weren’t worried about being killed by the bastard boy who came to power. Being backstabbed certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it was a quick death, maybe even an easy one: in some books you read people were skinned alive or burnt at the stake, and you imagined it to be much more painful.

Silly girl, your nanny had told you then, weakened by the lack of food - it was the second day of your imprisonment after coup d'etat. The new King could do so much worse things to you, the only woman belonging to the old royal dynasty.

At the end of the third day when you were delirious from lack of water, the guards had broken down the heavy wooden door of your chamber, and a shy little maid got in, carrying a large tray of food. The new King had probably picked the poison, you thought then when the girl poured water right into your mouth and it run on your dry, parched lips. moistening your skin and hair. She fed you some chicken soup while the guards forced the food down your nanny’s throat. Oddly, neither her no you died that day.

What could the bastard boy possibly want from you, your nanny asked over and over again, passing from one corner of your chamber to the other while you cleaned yourself in a metal basin filled with cold water. Wasn’t he supposed to kill you like all other members of the royal family? You thought so, too, but didn’t speak out loud to the old woman, knowing of her poor nerves.

When several man dressed as court attendants came to your chamber in a week, they announced your marriage to the new King, and a few maids assigned to you took your screaming and cursing old nanny away, assuring you no one would harm her. You, on the other hand, were brought to the castle, an army of maids following you to what they said was your new chamber, a large room with several windows and walls decorated with peculiar floral paintings. It was beautiful, but you felt you missed that small room high up in the tower with no one but your old foolish nanny by your side.

The new King was fearsome yet fair to the ones under his control, the maids told you, all eager to speak to you as you were left alone by the guards. He was a kitchen boy once, they said, a bastard son of some lady’s maid who left him right after giving birth, afraid to be punished by her mistress. Weak and ugly with his body like a twig, the boy was smart enough to rise in his ranks over years, becoming the servant of the court magician - you saw him once or twice on your brother’s birthday celebrations, you thought. Weaving his net around all right people of the royal court for years, in the end Steven Rogers overthrew the old King, the man who cared about no one but himself, and the Queen who was more worried about her cats rather than her people dying of hunger.

The new King was a good man, all of them told you once they bathed and clothed you, combed your wild hair and put some flower oil behind your ears and on your wrists. It was good he decided to marry you, the one forgotten even by your people.

Be nice to him, they warned you before escorting you to his chambers, be gentle and choose your words right when speaking to him, and then you’ll be safe and sound. The new King wasn’t a bad man, oh no, he just suffered so much inside the castle walls.

When you entered his chambers, the ones belonging to your father before, you saw so much light coming from open windows it made you hold you breath for a second. You had only been here once - on the day when your brother, the successor to the throne, was born - yet you still remembered how dark and gloomy was the room lit by dozens of candles smelling like pig fat. It was so odd to see the same room that looked so different now.

The man standing up from a heavy mahogany desk turned towards you, and you saw his handsome face: his eyes were of dark blue color like the twilight sky; his skin pale but cheeks a bit rosy as if he had just returned from outside; when you saw his full lips, you thought they were too sensual for a man, though not that you knew much about men, anyway. Truly, the new King looked like he belonged here - maybe even more than your father, old as ancient skies, with his back hunched and crooked. He wasn’t dressed in a heavy dark mantle of your father but in an embroidered and slashed doublet, ankle-length breeches fastened with points, a sword of your father hanging by the man’s side. Oh, he looked so much more like an Ancient King than your father ever did.

“People said you are ugly.” You said, watching his face with curiosity and tilting your head to the side - your old nanny hated this habit of yours. “But I don’t think it is true.”

“I have been ugly.”

He didn’t speak loudly, yet you heard his low voice perfectly clear in the silence of this huge chamber, his expression calm but eyes unsettling.

“But one day I have drunk the potion the court magician prepared for your father, Your Highness.”

Funny, you thought, coming a little closer - you struggled to walk in this heavy crimson dress with many layers, the neckline adorned with precious stones generously. It was probably one of your mother’s dresses she never wore.

Watching his dark blonde hair shining in the sunlight, suddenly you remembered something, something you had long forgotten, and you stopped, watching the blue eyes that now seemed familiar. A little boy with his body so feeble he could get swept away by the wind. No, no, he couldn’t be. It was impossible.

“You’re the boy who fell off the Moon.” You stared at him with your eyes wide, your lips slightly open as you saw the little guy whose name you didn’t remember - the one who had fell on your balcony when you lived in the castle for a couple of months while your chamber in the tower was being repaired.

He was a funny boy, skinny as a rail with his hands so white you thought he had always been cold. When he turned up on your balcony, you had been reading and almost screamed at the loud sound of him falling. Gladly, you didn’t make a sound - the guards were everywhere in the castle, and they’d surely take him.

You remembered the boy saying he was a moon knight, showing you how he handled the invisible sword he carried and, once you two sat in front of the fireplace, he told you many stories of all places he visited and things he saw. Gladly, he disappeared before your nanny showed up, carrying a tray of food in her shaky hands, but the boy came the next day, and then the day after that, and after that one, too. He kept coming for seven more days before the reparation of your chamber had been completed, and you moved back. Sadly, he couldn’t get to the Tower, saying the angle wasn’t right to jump off the Moon.

“Yes, Your Highness. I am the boy you let into your room years ago.”

A part of you refused to believe him - the new King is too big and handsome to be the little boy whose arms were so skinny you thought you could see his bones through the skin. Besides, for many years you kept thinking the Moon knight was just a dream you saw. But what if the new King told you the truth? What if it was him?

“I remember standing on one knee in front of you and pretending giving you an invisible ring as something to remember me by when I’d return to the Moon.” His face lightened up for a couple of seconds, and suddenly you saw the familiar twinkley eyes and that shy little smile when the new King curled his lips. “Isn’t it peculiar I have been thinking about those days with you when the Royal Chef whipped me till my back bled? When I was strangling him, all I thought was the day when I see you again, Your Highness.”

Uneasiness washed over you once you heard the man talking. Living alone in the tower, you knew very little of a life in the castle, but you knew murdering someone was wrong. 

“Why did he whip you?” You asked, furrowing your brows when the man in front of you chuckled. “You killed him for that, right?”

“I killed him because he was the most disgusting son for a bitch you’d ever met, dear princess.”

You winced at his harsh words: your old nanny had never even once sworn in your presence except the day when the new King killed your father, but, of course, the man in fancy clothes knew nothing of etiquette and good manners. 

“I’ve killed the court magician, too.” The new King continued, marching to you like one of the guards you saw once in a while, and you felt the urge to retreat to your room immediately. “I’ve killed much more people, your father and mother, too, and I don’t regret it even the slightest bit.”

You made a step back, looking at his face growing darker once he sensed your fear, and you were on the verge of running away the very next moment, thinking he was going to murder you, too.

“Are you scared now, princess? Do you know what I’ve done to get so far? Do you understand who owns the castle, your tower, even you, Your Highness?” With each question he was getting closer and closer until you showed him your back and sprinted towards the heavy doors beside you, clenching your dress and lifting it up to move faster. “Do you know what I’ll do to you, darling?”

You didn’t, and you had no desire to figure it out, finally reaching the door when the man beside you pushed your body into the wood with his, his hands on the door, preventing you from leaving.

“I’ve lied and cheated; I’ve drank the potion that broke every bone in my body and healed them back; I’ve killed your father and all those who stood in my way.” His words turned into a low, guttural growl as he pressed your body into the wood. “I’ve did everything to own this goddamn castle that made me feel so unhappy, so miserable and pathetic. I loathe this place. I loathe you. God, I loathe you so much.”

He was going to kill you. Dear Lord, you should have listened to your old nanny.

“You made my feel like I was someone. It was because of you I couldn’t stay just a kitchen boy. I wanted to have what you nobles had. I wanted to control all the ones who looked down on me.” He nuzzled into your hair, and you felt his firm touch on your shoulders. “God, I wanted to have you, but, unless I had the castle, I couldn’t get to you, princess. Do you know what I’ve done to get here? Do you have the slightest idea, darling?”

“Please, don’t.” You whispered quietly, afraid to raise your voice as you felt his angry breath on your skin.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, for I’m too far gone.” Moving your dress up in haste, the new King put his knee in between your legs, ignoring your whimper. “Whatever you have, I’ll take.”


	35. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dad's friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Bucky certainly wasn’t the most talkative or friendly type, but he still cared about you, supporting you the way he could. Even if he was way older than you, and a part of you still didn’t feel very comfortable around him, Bucky was the only one by your side.

Looking at the lonely chocolate muffin laying on the table in front of you, you closed your eyes for a couple of seconds, making a wish: it was your birthday, and you were stuck in some filthy roadside diner with no one but Mr. Barnes by your side.

Bucky. You were ought to call him Bucky, you reminded yourself, opening your eyes and blowing softly on a single candle sitting on the top of your muffin.

It wasn’t his fault you two ended up here - there had been a huge accident on your way back home, a tanker truck exploded into flames in the middle of the highway. In fact, you were lucky you were far away since several drivers and passengers who had the misfortune to be close to the truck had already been declared dead. It was all over the news, most of the people inside diner glued to the old TV hanging on the wall.

Staring at the candle, you carefully pulled it off and dropped it on a cheap white napkin, taking the muffin and eagerly having a bite. Mr. Barn… Bucky watched you from the other side of the table, his coffee already long cold. There was no smile on his face as you quietly said thank you to him, but you barely remembered him smiling at all despite knowing him for several years at the very least. He was your dad’s friend, and he often visited your house to share a beer and watch hockey with your dad late in the evening. Who could imagine it would be Bucky of all people helping you stay afloat.

“What did you wish for?” He asked you, and chuckled grimly at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Apparently, you had to keep it a secret to make your wish come true, but it didn’t matter now.

“To have a family.”

You gulped down a sob and stared at the red table as Bucky reached out to pat your shoulder gently. Both of you knew what you meant, but you had no strength to talk about it again. It was still painful as hell.

“It will get better.” He said quietly as you nodded, wiping away your tears and gulping down your coke. “You need time.”

Yeah, time, that was what everyone around you kept saying as if time could change the fact you were all alone now; as if it could make you forget all that happened and keep the pain away. What could time do? Make you insensitive, unsympathetic, and unable to feel anything at all. All this time could probably do to you, sure.

He bought a couple of ham sandwiches and bottles of coke for the evening and left with you following him closely. The motel room was just as dirty as the diner, but you didn’t expect anything else, preparing to cleaning it up - anyway, there wasn’t much you could do around here. Although there were lots of people stuck here along with you two, you had no wish to go talk to them about the tragedy. You had your own already, and it was enough for you.

“Your uncle looks scary on this photo.” Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you picked it up, reading the message from April, your best friend - your only friend, to be completely honest. “Like he’s straight out of those serial killer documentaries.”

“April, come on.“

"what, I’m serious lol”

“Maybe he’s not your sunshine guy, but he’s the only one who stayed with me after all that happened.”

“And he is NOT my uncle!”

“sorry girl just wanted to cheer you up”

You smiled at the text, missing Bucky’s gaze as he came closer to you.

“Who’s that?” He asked, and you raised your eyes at him, immediately getting back to your grim state.

“April. She saw the photo I sent her.” Explaining quietly, you tried pretending you were happy, stretching your lips in a thin smile and thinking whether Bucky could feel it. “She’s checking on how we are here.”

“Good.”

With that he left to bathroom, leaving you on your knees scrubbing the floor. He was bad at cleaning - really bad, missing tons of dirty spots to the point it felt like he didn’t clean anything at all. That was why you preferred doing it yourself. Besides, it was him who paid for the room and food despite you trying to share the expenses, so you felt obliged to him.

Bucky certainly wasn’t the most talkative or friendly type, but he still cared about you, supporting you the way he could. Even if he was way older than you, and a part of you still didn’t feel very comfortable around him, Bucky was the only one by your side. He agreed living with you when most of your relatives had little interest in staying even for a few days longer, leaving you all alone. He helped you with all the legal stuff you knew nothing about, never having to deal with these issues before. He gave you a drive to your university campus every morning and called you every time when you were supposed to come home, probably afraid you’d do something to yourself. That was what you thought, at least.

He was a good man. Maybe a little gruff, seemingly unfriendly, intimidating even, but still better then all those who promised to look after you and then vanished.

“I’m going to go for a walk.” Bucky said after leaving bathroom and putting his sneakers on. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

You felt shame bubbling up inside you at his words. He still thought you might be suicidal.

“Of course. I’ll be waiting here.”

With that he nodded and left you alone with a bright pack of Lysol and dirty doormat on the floor. Sighing, you felt relieved, finally staying all by yourself in the grim silence of the room. It wasn’t that bad. You weren’t stuck together somewhere in the desert with no food and shelter. Tomorrow morning you’d be able to return home from that little improvised vacation Bucky organized purely for you, staying in a cabin close to the beautiful lake in the woods. It wasn’t his fault you were spending your birthday like this, scrubbing the floor clean and wiping the dust from shelves and nightstands instead of celebrating somewhere in the club with April, drinking fancy cocktails.

In half an hour you finished the clean up and had a shower, changing into your funny pink pajamas - you knew your looked pathetic in it, considering how old it was, but it was one of the things that made you feel safe. Anyway, Bucky didn’t care about the way you looked, so you simply wore whatever you found comfortable, often looking like a kid who was too big to fit into their old clothes.

“Whatcha doin??” A message popped up on the screen as you checked your phone again.

“Gonna go to sleep, I guess. I didn’t sleep well yesterday again.”

“i have a gooood recipe for a nice 8-hour sleep”

“Really? What’s that?”

Instead of answering you clearly, she sent you a link. To your horror, instead of checking the name first you simply clicked on it and found out April sent you some porno. Groaning, you quickly turned it off, afraid somebody gonna hear it - the walls here were out of paper, you could swear.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” You typed furiously. “Are you mad?”

“come on, what are we, holy virgins?? Ima telling you, this thing works! Just try it, you’ll be sleeping after this in no time!”

“April, even if I’m gonna believe this crap, Bucky just went for a walk. I have no clue when he’s going to come back. Do you really think I’m ready to do this when he’s around?”

“damn girl just don’t put earphones, cover yourself with a blanket and sit facing the door.” You could literally see her rolling her eyes at you. “you’re a grown up, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. When you hear the man coming, just turn it off!”

Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you muted your phone and carefully opened the link again, trying to understand what kind of porno she sent you exactly. Apparently, it was that daddy thing she kept telling you about - you read the name of the video, and your face grew unbearably hot in a second. Damn, this girl had no shame whatsoever.

But maybe she was right: you needed to release some tension that had been building up over the last months. It was quite an innocent way to do it, really, and you’d be careful enough to do it before Bucky came back, finding anything suspicious. You were a human being, after all! There was nothing nasty in what you were going to do, you tried assuring yourself.

“I’m gonna regret it.”

“NO GIRL YOU WON’T! Treat yourself!!”

Laughing, you quickly dropped your phone on your bed, taking a tablet out of your backpack along with a pair of pink socks - you couldn’t explain it, but your feet were always getting cold while you pleasured yourself. Getting comfortable on your bed and wrapping a comforter around yourself, you opened your tablet, setting the volume level low and finding that link April sent you. You threw a quick glance to the door, prepared to switch the tablet off any second if Bucky was going to show up. Shoot, were you doing it for real? Yes, yes you were.

Opening the video, you bit down on your lower lip, a little ashamed still. Trying to get these thoughts out of your head, you concentrated on what was happening in the video, watching a girl sitting on the lap of a beefy bearded man stroking her ass. He was speaking to her softly, but in a very low, husky voice, and you realized it was getting warm in between your thighs. You closed your eyes, listening to the voice that, along with a sound of him slapping the girl, was making you aroused way more than the picture itself.

"Have you been good, princess?” The man whispered, and you could see the smug grin on his face even with your eyes closed.

Yes, you have, you thought, your hand slowly trailling down your belly and touching the elastic of your cotton panties.

Fuck, you heard the sound of one more slap and bit your lip again, imagining it was you he spanked, caressing your raw, hot skin with his calloused palm, his fingers digging in your soft flesh when you tried moving away, quietly squirming from his touch. You were a good girl for him. You’d do what your daddy told you, baring your ass in front of him and getting back on his lap, moving on top of him, making him feel you through the fabric of his pants until you ruined them. Would daddy be happy if you rode him, moaning like some dirty slut until he shut you with his mouth? Would he like you cumming on his cock with your eyes rolling inside your skull out of immense pleasure?

With your fingers on your clit, you gently stroked that bundle of nerves, getting more and more wet until you soaked your panties, listening to the voice of that man and imagining being with your own daddy, somebody who would take care of you, somebody who would never leave you alone and comfort you when you needed it the most. Oh, were you crying, thinking of it? You could feel your eyes growing wet as you softly moaned. You imagined the man touching your hair and kissing your forehead, and tears were now streaming down your cheeks.

You were pathetic, you thought. You couldn’t even pleasure yourself while watching porno anymore.

Softly sobbing, you kept listening to the video, touching your sleek folds and missing the shadow that descended upon you - you couldn’t see the stranger behind the window, watching you sitting there on your bed with a tablet in front of you, seeing the video clearly. Maybe Bucky couldn’t hear it from the outside, but he knew it - he saw it a couple of weeks ago when he felt a little lonely.

You almost cummed when you heard the steps right outside the door, inmediately hitting the screen to stop the video and hiding your tablet beneath the comforter. You didn’t figure out anything better than pretending you were already asleep, aside from the fact it was barely seven.

Covering your head, you prayed Bucky didn’t see anything suspicious, mentally cursing April for sending you the link. Shit, you knew this wasn’t going to end well! Why on Earth did you even tried something as reckless and stupid as this when Bucky could show up any minute?

“I know you’re not sleeping.”

His voice sounded so much closer than you anticipated that you almost flinched, holding your breath for a couple of seconds. Fuck, did he know? Did he hear you? Could he see the tablet beneath your blanket?

You stilled, still pretending you were sleeping when Bucky landed close to you, the bed dipping under him. When he suddenly touched your leg, making you flinch involuntarily, you clamped a hand around your mouth. Shit! What was he doing? He had never ever touched you like that before. Was he mad? Did he-

“You can stop pretending, little one.” As Bucky lifted your comforter, you stared at him, terrified to the core with your eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

Immediately, you tried moving away, determined to get to the other side of the room, but he quickly held you down with his hands on your wrists, getting on top of you. Shit. Staring at his dark but calm expression, you saw a strange glint in his eyes that had never been there before. The thought made you shiver.

Something was wrong with the way he hold you, looked at you - it was not like before when he treated you like some sad kid, patting your head awkwardly when you cried and rarely giving you a hug. You were staring at the man who barely reminded you of Bucky who had been coming to your house to watch a hockey game late in the evening. This man seemed like a stranger.

“Please, Mr. Barnes-”

“Shhhh.” He interrupted your pleading, leaning closer to you so his dark hair brushed against your face. “Don’t be scared. It’s alright.”

No, no, it wasn’t alright in any sense, and you kept struggling, doing your best to break free from his grasp until Bucky made you yelp from pain, grabbing your hands so hard you thought you’d have bruises. When you got silent, trembling beneath him with your eyes full of tears, he got closer, his forehead touching yours as he exhaled into your face.

“P-please, I don’t want to.”

“Don’t you? I’ve seen what you’ve been doing while I was gone.” His stormy grey eyes bore into you, and you thought Bucky was angry at you watching that filthy porno. “But I won’t punish you.”

“What do you want then?” You sobbed, then froze when he kissed your cheek, and then your nose and eyelids, his chapped lips brushing softly against your skin. His touch felt warm.

“To take care of you.”

You looked at him with your watery eyes, whimpering softly when Bucky kissed your forehead as you relaxed beneath him, shocked at his words. Take care of you? What did he mean by that? Wasn’t he taking care of you already? No, now you knew why Bucky was close, and he definitely wasn’t some good Samaritan you imagined him to be. Was it all for this? Did he pretend to be your friend just to let you lower your guard?

Crying, you closed your eyes, thinking how silly you were wanting someone to be by your side, having dreams about someone taking care of you, comforting you when even the one you thought was there for you just wanted to use a silly little girl and throw her away.

“Take what you want and go.” You managed to mumble, choking on a sob. “Just leave me alone.”

Bucky raised his brows, his gaze heavy as he stared at your face wet with tears. “Why would I? Didn’t you hear what I just said, little one?”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, avoiding looking him in the eyes. “You’re here because you want to take something from me. So, take it and go. _Please!_ ”

Bucky let out a loud breath, getting off you and rolling to the side, but holding you close and pressing your face into his chest. You could feel a subtle smell of sweat coming from him; strangely, it was almost comforting. Anyway, you had no strength left to fight him, so you just laid there, his hands on your back and in your hair. His black zipped hoodie was quickly getting wet with you still sobbing quietly.

“I’m not going anywhere, little girl.” He whispered, touching the top of your head with his lips. “You’re mine to take care off. Look at you, barely able to sleep on your own. How do you think you will manage without me?”

You didn’t answer, not knowing what to say. What Bucky told you was true - you barely existed outside of your house, facing the reality where you were always alone. April was trying her best to help you come to your senses, but she wasn’t family. You needed a family.

“Will you stay?” You whimpered, shaking lightly at the though Bucky would go, too, and you would end up all by yourself, talking to four walls until one day they would talk to you, too.

“Remember your birthday wish?” He asked instead of answering your question, and you felt like the air was sucked out of your lungs. But before you had time to said something, Bucky dropped a kiss to your forehead again, caressing your head tenderly. “I am your family, little one. You will _never_ be alone.”


	36. Blindfold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Enjoying a little vacation with your friends in a nice mountain hotel, you stumble upon a stranger in a bar, ending up losing your virginity to him. But why do you feel uneasy about this guy with a smile a mile wide, the one who follows you literally everywhere?
> 
> P.S. I came up with this after watching Hot Tub Time Machine, yes.

“You can have mine, kisa.” Bucky casually dropped a kiss to your cheek and moved his plate with a cupcake closer to you as you looked at him timidly, too shy to say anything while your friends laughed at you two.

Despite being comfortable around this guy, a literal sunshine as your girls called him, you felt uneasy about all this: you had met him less than a week ago, but the two of you behaved as if you had been together as a couple for several months at the very least. Besides, it was all in public, right in front of your dearest friends, and you were terribly embarrassed: you got so drunk the first night here that you didn’t even remember spending a night with Bucky. Waking up the next morning with him in your bed, you were ready to die from shame: you were a virgin, and you, the one who had always treated relationship too seriously, the one who had never drunk too much, ended up in bed with some damn guy you saw in a bar for the first time. Jesus Christ, you couldn’t believe it happened to you.

But then again, what happened after that was even more ridiculous: Bucky actually liked you. He apologized since he was terribly drunk that night, too, so he didn’t remember much, but offered you to hang out together while both of you stayed in the hotel. He came here with a bunch of friends to enjoy skiing just like you did.

And then it accelerated to the point when Bucky was calling you pet names - he showed off with his knowledge of Russian, calling you “kisa”, a kitty - and spending so much time together and even sharing his food with you it really felt like you two were together. It was… weird, really. Though, of course, it was much better than having him leave that morning without a word.

Bucky had nice friends: that shy little guy Steve, an artist, and Sam who was studying engineering with Bucky. Since you came to the mountain with girls only, they were very eager to join Bucky and his guys, forgetting it was supposed to be Girls Vacation.

You had a feeling he was too nice to you. Too sweet. Too caring. Why? Did he want to simply play with you while on vacation? Well, whether or not it was the case, you’d part your ways soon, anyway, you thought. You weren’t from the same city, and you doubted this relationship would continue after both of you went back to the places you lived.

“Seriously, just relax.” Natasha told you, giving you a glass of red wine and pointing her finger towards Bucky who was laughing about something with his friends. “You’re always in control. It’s not a bad thing, but sometimes you gotta let go, give youself some freedom. Of course, I understand you didn’t want your first time to be like that, but if it already happened, why not enjoy?”

“I don’t know, Nat. It’s like something’s off.” You confessed to her quietly, hoping the guys couldn’t hear you.

“What are you afraid of?” She winked at you mischievously. “The guy’s sweet as pie. Besides, even if something goes wrong, you have us.”

It took you a few seconds before you nodded slowly at her, sipped your wine and thinking of your options. Anyway, why were you worried? Nat was right: if Bucky started acting weird or tried something you didn’t like, you have your girls squad ready to protect you. Both Nat and Carol were way more mature in terms of being in a relationship than you were, and you fully trusted them. If they considered the guy harmless, maybe he really were, and you were just imagining things, afraid of intimacy.

And, to be honest, aside from getting you drunk, Bucky wasn’t really guilty of anything - on the contrary, you were quite happy in his arms, grateful to him for being a considerate lover who cared about your needs as much as his own. You knew there were plenty of men who’d fall asleep on top of you after coming, forgetting they weren’t the only ones who needed release.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you.” You nodded at Natasha, gulping down your wine while she laughed at you, nudging you to come closer to Bucky - he looked so damn pretty in that red sports jacket that you felt your cheeks growing hot immediately.

Oh God, why were you always complicating things? He was a real charmer, the life of the party, the one who could make you laugh instantaneously, and your first time happened to be with him. Why did you think it was necessarily bad? Yeah, Bucky wasn’t your significant other who confessed his love to you and then took you on a bed of roses, but it didn’t mean he was at fault. He was just a guy who liked you that night in a bar, and you liked him, too. What happened between you was consensual and safe. Well, maybe Bucky was too quick pretending to be your boyfriend, but he knew you only had a week together, then moving back to completely different cities. So far, he didn’t do anything at all that could hurt you.

“Baby, are you drunk again?” He chuckled, looking at the empty glass in your hands while you put your head on his shoulder. “Fuck, are you really a control freak Carol was telling me so much about?”

“Oh, go to hell.” You mumbled, kissing his cheek with your eyes closed and nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck, enjoying the heat of his body. “It’s all your fault.”

“Pleading not guilty!” Bucky’s soft laugh made you smile when he gently helped you stand up on your unsteady feet, guiding you towards your bedroom. “Let’s put you to bed, kisa.”

You nodded, murmuring something to your friends and moving along with him, finally letting go of your worries - you enjoyed it to your heart’s content when Bucky ate you out just a few minutes later, making you moan in your pillow and cumming with him sucking on your clit. Shit, he was so fucking good at that it was a shame you pitied yourself for having your first time with Bucky. How could you? When he was riding you, filling you full, kissing you, and whispering something sweet and filthy in your ear, didn’t you love it so fucking much you could literally explode?

“I love you, Bucky.” You moaned with your arms around his shoulders, your eyes almost rolling inside your skull from all the pleasure. “I really, really love you.”

He had that smug grin on his face again when he hit your sweet spot, making you clench him down even harder, your eyes closed as you kept murmuring something he could barely understand.

Whatever. Bucky was clearly enjoying his time with you, so why couldn’t you do the same? This might be your very best vacation, and you were spending it worrying about your relationship with this lovely guy who made you orgasm like, three times every night? God, you were being unreasonable.

“If only I knew sex feels sooo good.” You murmured, drunk and tired and happy.

“Woah, that’s quite a compliment.” Bucky bursted out laughing, laying down next to you on the bed and kissing your shoulder. “Gonna do it more from now on?”

“What’s the point of it if it won’t be with you.” Groaning and moving your head up, you gave him a quick peck on the lips and drifted off to sleep, missing that expression of awe and pity on Bucky’s face as he watched you sleeping peacefully close to him. You knew nothing of it, but what he wouldn’t give to see you like that the next morning, and the morning after that, and then after that one, and after your vacation would be long over.

He felt you were the right one for him when he met you that night in a bar - you were coming there to have fun with your friends after spending the whole day skiing. Bucky could see you were a little reluctant to talk to him, probably too shy and inexperienced, so he ordered a few drinks to make you relax, more open to let him have his way with you. In the end, you weren’t protesting, lettting him take you to your own room where he fucked the shit out of you. Oh, you enjoyed it, alright. He could tell it from the way you moaned so loudly beneath him, spreading your legs as if you were some whore, not a timid virgin. That night you milked him dry, and Bucky enjoyed every second of it.

Of course, the next morning you were shocked to learn what happened between the two of you, and it took Bucky some time to assure you he really, really liked you. He could understand why you were acting that way - a part of him was even delighted to see you so ashamed, panicking instantly when you realized you lost your virginity with a guy you met just yesterday. But he made sure you knew he wasn’t judging you because of that. In the end, it was him forcing you into a situation when you simply couldn’t say no to him.

Figuring out how to appeal to you was a matter of couple of hours - Bucky quickly brought Steve and Sam to meet your friends, and then everything went smooth. He could see you were still reluctant to open up to him, but it was getting better and better with every day you spent together skiing, going to cafes in that little town at the foot of the mountain, building a bonfire and singing songs, and just being close to each other, talking, laughing, and having good time. Was he being too clingy? Maybe. The girls he dated before liked it, so he just went with what he thought was safe.

Well, regardless, Bucky was getting what he wanted.

The next day you were already packing your things: tomorrow morning you were leaving Hunter’s Lodge, and you didn’t want to do it in haste like Natasha usually did, always forgetting something. You felt a little down - you liked this place. You liked this little vacation. And, more importantly, you liked Bucky. Now the thought of departing and never seeing him again was almost painful to you. Among all the guys you had met, he was probably one of the nicest of them. Besides, among other things, you felt safe around him: even if you were drunk, Bucky always watched out for you, staying close and ensuring you were alright.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Carol rubbed your back sympathetically. “It’s not like you guys live on the other sides of the planet. You can keep in touch and visit each other sometimes.”

“Come on, he’s not gonna do that.” You exhaled, biting your lips. “I’m not even sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend back home.”

“Well, then Nat and me gonna be there for you. With 10 pints of Ben & Jerry’s.”

You surpressed a laugh, appreciating her support. Anyway, the world wasn’t going to fall apart because of Bucky Barnes. You’d come back home and return to life you had before coming here - it wasn’t a bad one, was it? You enjoyed being single.

God, who you were kidding, you’d definitely miss him.

“Kisa, can you meet me in my room in ten minutes?” Casually dropping a kiss to your cheek, Bucky smiled at you and winked at Carol who rolled her eyes at the two of you, groaning.

“Sure.” You nodded, avoiding looking him in the eyes.

What was he planning? You hoped he wasn’t going to say something like “you’re nice, but let’s not make things difficult between us.” You wanted to spend your last day together thinking of nothing at all than worry about what would happen tomorrow.

You finished packing quickly and moved down the corridor to Bucky’s room without thinking it was too early - few minutes had barely passed after he came to you. But you were too deep in your thoughts to remember that. You only stopped when you saw his door slightly open - apparently, it was Steve talking to him.

Unsure of what to do next, you turned your back to the door, determined to leave, but then you heard Rogers talking, “Are you sure about all this, Buck?”

You stilled, too eager to learn what they were talking about.

“Totally.” Bucky’s voice sounded cheerful. “I tell you, she’s the one.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” His friend breathed deeply.

Were they talking about you? What was wrong? Didn’t Steve like you? You thought he did.

“I mean, she doesn’t seem to be your type of girl. She’s nice, really nice, but she didn’t even date anyone except you. Are you sure you know where are you going with all this?” His voice was full of concern.

“Come on, man, I’m not planning on corrupting her or anything.” You could literally sense Bucky rolling his eyes at Steve’s remark. "I just like her. Is it a crime now?“

“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to blow it.”

“I’M NOT!”

You literally jumped a little at Bucky’s sudden outburst, pressing your back to the wall: it was the first time he was so pissed about something. What were they talking about? Sure, it definitely had to do something with you, but what exactly did Bucky want? Why was he so mad at his best friend? Like, was he going to offer you to date him after the vacation was over? Then it made sense that Steve was concerned, knowing relationship that started like this were doomed from the start. You were even a little grateful to Steve for considering your feelings. Why was Bucky so mad, though?

“Just take care, please.” Rogers sighed, giving him a pat on the shoulder and moving to the door: you froze on the spot, deeply ashamed when you realized you were eavesdropping this entire time and that Steve could discover you this very second.

“Thanks, Steve. I promise, I’ll make it work.”

With your hand clamped over your mouth, you watched the blonde guy marching to the other side of the corridor, not closing the door to Bucky’s room properly and missing you behind it. Shoot, that was close! What were you thinking, standing here all this time? Now it was you who almost blew it up. You couldn’t even imagine Bucky’s face if he discovered you eavesdropping on him - you had a feeling there definitely would be no relationship of any kind between you two after that.

Softly exhaling, you thanked heavens for letting you go unnoticed. But before you decided to move back and then appear in front of Bucky as if nothing had happened, you saw him dancing in his room through an open space between the door frame and the wall. Smiling, you watched him for a couple of seconds more: Bucky was adorable, quickly recovering from his temper tantrum just a minute earlier. You saw him taking out the glasses and filling them with red wine; you recognized the bottle from that local store where they sold amazing sider. And then, right in that moment when you wanted to walk in and pretend you didn’t hear anything earlier, you saw him taking out a pack of pills out of his pocket and dropping one into a glass.

Only in one glass. Probably the one he was going to give you.

For a second you forgot how to breath. You knew there was no damn way he brought these pills for recreational use - who in the right state of mind would put them in a glass of wine? If Bucky was taking some meds, he definitely wouldn’t mix it with alcohol. It was insane even for someone as careless as him.

Oh fuck. Those pills really weren’t for him.

That’s why you didn’t remember anything from the first night, although seemingly not drinking much as Nat assured you. Why didn’t you stop when you felt it was enough for you as you had always done before? How come you were so lost in the morning you didn’t even recognize the guy who took your virginity? Sleeping with the first guy you saw in a bar was so not like you it was weird even for Carol who always encouraged you to be braver around men.

But it was all becoming clear now. Bucky dragged you. He put a roofie in your cocktail and took you upstairs before the girls found out something suspicious about your state. Finding your room wasn’t a tough task as you kept your key in the pocket of your pants. Why did he keep acting like a loving boyfriend all this week? You had no idea. Maybe he enjoyed playing with you while you didn’t even know what he had done, or Bucky simply wanted to continue having sex with you, it didn’t really matter.

Shit, you needed to find girls and get out of here. Whatever Barnes planned for you, it couldn’t be good.

As you rushed to the opposite side of the corridor, hoping to get to the elevator before Bucky stumbled upon you, you felt a hand clamping over your mouth while a solid, muscular arm dragged you to the room as you struggled to keep away. Fuck, he saw you watching him.

As he threw you to his bed, quickly landing on top of you and binding your wrists with his belt, you stared at him in utter horror, watching him smile at you in the same manner he did just ten minutes ago. Did Steve speak about this? Did he mean Bucky would hurt you badly? Fuck, would he kill you?

“What are you doing?” You whispered, scared to the point you barely moved your lips.

“We’re not going to fuck this up, baby.” Bucky winked at you carelessly and grabbed a glass of wine with a roofie in it, squeezing your chin with his fingers and trying to make you drink the dark red liquid. “Come on, be a good girl for me. I promise you gonna like it.”

You did your best, clenching your teeth as he poured wine on your face, staining the white pillow beneath you. He was a little irritated with your attempts to fight him, but then he held your nose, making you slowly suffocate, and soon you had to open your mouth. Bucky finally made you drink whatever was in that glass, chuckling darkly at you and forcing the liquid down your throat, watching you drink and caugh and cry. Oh, you made so much mess, but he was glad he didn’t totally blew it up with you. Now, as you laid there beneath him with your eyes red from tears, drops of wine streaming down from the sides of your mouth to the pillow, he felt everything was going to go well, then gripping your belt and unbuckling it with a smile on his face.

“Don’t worry, kisa. I promise I’ll make it work for both of us.”


	37. The Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alien!Bucky Barnes x astronaut!Reader
> 
> The black meadows you stared upon were nothing like the ones you saw from a window of the little house where you spent your childhood. This place was wicked, evil. You could feel it in the air as you inhaled that strange, sickly sweet oxygen or whatever it was. No wonder their women couldn’t handle living here, and you wouldn’t last here either.

When you finally managed to open your eyes, everything was pitch black for a couple of minutes. Your body hurt so much as if someone threw you into a well, then pulled your dead body out, and threw it back in. The oxygen mask on your face felt heavy as hell.

You easily recognized the monotonous sounds of life support system since it wasn’t your first space mission. Damn, what had happened? Did you finally get that significant brain damage Dr. Strange was so concerned about? You didn’t remember blacking out so violently after your last spaceflights. This one wasn’t even your longest.

When you saw the room, you stared at the unnaturally high ceiling that you couldn’t blame on your blurry vision. It just didn’t look the same. Did they move the Adaptation Center to a new building or something? Did Dr. Strange mentioned it before? You couldn’t remember, really. You didn’t think he did.

Despite the fact that you felt weightless, moving your body seemed nearly impossible as you struggled to move your legs. Shit, and there you thought those magic drugs NASA offered you last time were way better than their usual treatments. 

Wait. You didn’t finish your mission. You weren’t returning to Earth yet as you had around 6 more months to spend in space. Had something happened? Did Dr. Str-

Oh yes. Dr. Strange was dead. You still remembered his face when Sergeant Barnes, an extraterrestrial from Theseus-17, had shot him right in front of you.

When you saved them from their greatly damaged spacecraft, it was five of them: Steve Rogers, the Captain, their leader; Tony Stark, the Pilot; Bruce Banner, the Doctor; Vision, the Pastor, and James Buchanan Barnes, the Soldier. All of them simply used human analogues of their true names, but the members of your crew didn’t protest: since Theseus-17 was incredibly far even for your highly technologically advanced spaceships, you knew very little of its inhabitants. Apparently, they attempted to establish a good relationship between your races - especially since you had so much biological similarities. In fact, they might be the closest to humans among other species you had ever encountered before, you thought.

Well, it was true, but you failed to see they would use it to their advantage to the fullest.

They were a militaristic alien race with predominantly male population controlled by stratocratic government. Their planet was three times smaller than Earth, but their technological advancement was unbelievable, especially compared to human’s: it allowed them to invade several other small planets and colonize them in the past. However, due to some extreme DNA mutations, their female population was declining decade after decade resulting in zero births over the last five years. The Hydrarirans, as they called themselves, were rapidly facing extinction, Steve told you while explaining the reasons why they were so far from their home.

You had a pretty long talk after Bucky had shot Dr. Strange, and Tony strangled Wong. You barely remembered what had happened next, though you could guess you ended up being drugged by Hydrarians. Fuck. Did you send a signal back to Earth? You couldn’t tell. Well, you certainly remembered Dr. Strange sending a message about saving the crew of Theseus-17 spacecraft. If you went missing, it would be a clear sign of something going very wrong.

But you still were God knew where. Gradually becoming extremely nervous with each passing second, you looked at the countless wires attached to your body and started to pull, forcefully taking them out of your skin and silently crying - you didn’t remember feeling so much pain since the times of your first space mission. Violently throwing away the oxygen mask, you crawled on the bed until you fell to the floor with a loud thud. Shit.

You stayed there for a couple of minutes, afraid Hydrarians would quickly discover what you were doing, but since you heard nothing, you crawled further from bed to a wide glass wall, your vision still blurry. Where were you? It didn’t feel like a spacecraft. It felt like you were brought to an unknown planet, and when you saw two red suns shining in the black sky, you realized it was exactly like Steve described his planet to you.

No, no, it couldn’t be. Theseus-17 was God knew how many light years away. Their ship wasn’t in the condition to fly you there so fast, yours even less so, and you certainly hadn’t been put in a cryostasis. However, how well did you know what technology these alien freaks possessed? What if they could be using some teleport able to cover enormous distances? It could easily be an option.

Crawling further to the window, you had finally reached it and touched its cold surface. It certainly looked and felt like a glass beneath your palm.

The black meadows you stared upon were nothing like the ones you saw from a window of the little house where you spent your childhood. This place was wicked, evil. You could feel it in the air as you inhaled that strange, sickly sweet oxygen or whatever it was. No wonder their women couldn’t handle living here, and you wouldn’t last here either. It was clear what you were brought here for, and even the thought of it was repulsive to you. How dare they? How barbaric were these freaks, intending to use human women as some breeding machinery? If their military experiments made them facing extinction, then let it be, you thought, horrified and disgusted at the same time.

You rubbed your droopy eyes, feeling the wetness on the back of your palm as you tried not to cry, thinking what were your options except to submit silently to your abductors. How were you going to navigate a ship back home? How were you going to steal a ship? Actually, how were you going to leave this damn room, considering that your body was almost unable to move because of the time you spent in space? Recovery would take quite some time, unless Hydrarians had advanced medical support for cosmonauts. You hoped they did, because spending months to recover while staying with these savages wasn’t an option.

Huh, it was better to listen to your mom and become a doctor. Now you’d be sitting in your cabinet and listening to concerns of elderly ladies, not being locked away on a planet with no female population. You had hard times imagining what they would do to you if you end up being thrown in a crowd of mad men yearning for intimacy for years.

Rubbing your eyes again, you exhaled loudly. You were in deep, deep shit.

When the white wall beside you suddenly moved to the side, allowing a tall, menacing man in a black military suit to enter, you held your breath, watching Sergeant Barnes walking into the room. You thought of his metal hand with a red star engraved on it - he could snap your neck with one swift motion if he wanted to, though he could probably do it with his flesh hand, too. Certainly, he was both skilled in combat and cybernetically enhanced, so escaping with him guarding you would be extremely problematic. You’d prefer to meet Vision instead of the grim Soldier.

“What are you doing, woman?” Barnes asked as he saw you on the floor with your back pressed to the glass wall, your arms bleeding from violently tearing the wires of the life support system out of your body. Apparently, you didn’t look as good as he expected you to.

“A woman has a name.” You said sternly, watching one of your abductors marched through the room and trying your best not to tremble. If he was raised in a stratocratic society, he valued power and strong will more than anything else, probably, so you had to pull yourself together.

“I am sorry.” He suddenly said, bowing his head as he stood right in front of you. “If it pleases you, I will refer to you by your name only, Y/N.”

You blinked, your vision still unfocused and blurry - a part of you was thankful for that since you couldn’t see Soldier’s face clearly. You doubted he looked very friendly, despite talking to you with some respect.

“Don’t touch me.” You commanded as he leaned closer to take you back to bed, his shiny combat boots touching your bare leg just slightly, making you shiver involuntarily.

“We have medication to nurse you back to health, but you still need the life support system. Please, do not resist.” Sergeant Barnes once again tried to pick you up, but you grabbed him by the wrist instead, silently staring at his pale face half-covered by that black mask he wore.

The man got silent and froze on the spot, looking at you with a strange glint in his eyes. He certainly didn’t seem menacing or angry, but there was something in him you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Why wasn’t he upset by your behavior? Soldier didn’t try grabbing you forcefully, nevertheless.

Could it be your contact, then? You might be the first woman to touch him in years. Thinking of it, the very next moment you recoiled, crawling away to increase the distance between you two.

Maybe the man was disappointed, but you couldn’t see it with that blank expression he wore as he suddenly sat down on the floor close to you, and then took his mask away, showing you his rather handsome, yet gloomy face. He looked… human, and it truly scared you. 

“I know you think we are a threat to you, but we are not.” He said calmly, watching you. “I will not hurt you. I promise.”

You were ready to laugh at that. “You’ve killed my crew, people who I’d been working with for years.”

“Yes, and I am sorry for that. It was necessary.”

Necessary. What an interesting word he found to describe what he and his comrades had done.

“Don’t you understand what will happen once people from Earth learn about you and things you did?” As he cocked his head to the side, his dark uneven hair falling on his shoulder, you realized he wasn’t scared at all. “We can wipe you out of existence. Even if all of your kind are soldiers, there are billions of us, humans. You aren’t a threat.”

“We are not trying to be one.”

He extended his hand in attempt to touch you, but you recoiled and crawled away a bit further, narrowing your eyes at Sergeant. Whatever he was doing, it couldn’t be good for you.

“Please, do not be afraid. Right now you are the most precious being on our planet, and anyone trying to hurt you will be beheaded at the very least.” 

Of course, you were. If Captain told you the truth, you were the one and only young woman on Hydra. You would be treasured, but you dreaded what they would do to you. Even thinking of it made you face twist in revulsion.

“What makes you think using me like a cattle won’t hurt me?”

“A cattle?”

For a few seconds Soldier got silent, and you realized he was searching the meaning of this word - now you managed to see a strange device on his ear that looked like an old Bluetooth garniture or something. Then the man looked at you with a surprised expression on his face, and you felt an urge to bite your tongue to stop thinking how human he appeared now.

“I assure you, you will never be degraded to such an inferior being. On the contrary, we can give you anything you wish for. I know the status of women on Earth is still far from being equal to men’s, but you are godlike to us.”

Carefully lifting his hand again, Barnes had took a shiny black glove from his flesh arm and showed you his hand with five fingers, spreading them for you to see he was as human as you. For the first time you felt like you wanted to cry, and bit down on your lower lip. God, why? Why did he look just like any other man? Why was he trying to seem kind to you? It would be so much easier if he was hurting you, pressing your face into the floor and binding your arms.

“I swear to you on the name of my mother, I will do anything in my power to make you happy.” 

Apparently, it was some sacred oath, judging by the way his cold blue eyes gleamed, but you weren’t buying it. Make you happy? The one and only thing he could do was letting you go back home, to your own kind, and allow you to forget what had happened above your ship, the image of Dr. Strange with a wide hole in his chest still making you clench your fists.

“Why are you so sure we are a good substitute? If your own women weren’t able to survive here, what makes you think human females can?”

“Because our extensive research proves it. Moreover, a couple of human females have already been living here for several years.” Your face became distorted with horror at his words. “Captain’s wife was even able to give birth to two healthy children this year. They are the first children to be born on our planet in the last five years.”

“Humans will destroy your planet. They will kill all of you when they learn you’re kidnapping our women!”

“We are already in contact with your kind.” Dropping the glove to the floor, Barnes attempted to smile at you, confirming your suspicions he barely knew how to do it. “It is true, you are much greater in number than we are. But all of us are warriors with far more advanced technology and abundant resources. We will be able to damage your planet heavily before you eradicate each and every of us.”

The more he talked, the harder it was to follow - without the life support system, the lack of oxygen was making it harder for you to breathe, impossible to focus as you started breathing heavier, louder than before, but still refused to come back to bed, staring at the man in front of you with disgust and fear. God, it was better to suffocate than stay here with him.

“Do you know we possess twenty times more the amount of Vibranium you humans do?” Crawling closer to you like a spider, Soldier was watching you with both great interest and concern written all over his face. “We also have tritium and plutonium, too, as well as minerals you do not have on Earth at all. We are ready to trade them for something humans have in abundance.”

You were close to vomit, your eyes tearing up as you rubbed them furiously. You tried convincing yourself no one knew you were going to be captured by ruthless aliens. Of course, no one on Earth knew anything about that. There was no agreement between Theseus-17 and Earth to trade women for Vibranium and other resources. It would be direct violations of human rights and…

And it was very likely of humans to do, considering the lack of resources you had been facing over the last couple of decades.

When you started weeping, horrified of the things awaiting you in the nearest future, Sergeant finally reached you, wiping away your tears with his flesh hand. His touch was very subtle, gentle even, as he tenderly pressed his finger to your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin. His hand was warm, too.

“It’s not true.” You cried, turning your face to the glass wall and leaving wet marks on it. “They’ll come for me… I won’t become s-some shared property.”

“Of course you will not,” he shushed you gently, enveloping you in what seemed like a hug, lowering your head to his shoulder. “You will be a queen to me. I will treat you right, I swear.”

“You?”

Stilling, you bit down on your tongue, feeling the metallic taste filling your mouth as you drew some blood. Concentrating when your brain was lacking oxygen wasn’t easy, but you could still breathe, inhaling deeply, trying to calm yourself. He said something about Captain’s wife, didn’t he? He said she gave him two children. He said you wouldn’t become a shared property.

Dear Lord.

“I won’t be yours.” You whispered through tears, pushing the man’s chest in desperate attempt to keep him away from you. “I’m not your possession. I won’t be yours!”

You saw him frowning at you, his expression growing darker, more impatient, enraged even as you crawled away from him, your legs too weak to hold you. Oh, he didn’t like you looking at him like that when you realized you were given to him like some prize he won in an amusement park.

But Soldier wasn’t having it. Had you ever thought what it cost him to spend years in combat to earn his privileges, his right to travel among the best of the best? Did you know how much time he travelled across multiple universes to find exactly what he was searching for? Huh, you couldn’t even imagine what he felt when the team got coordinates of your ship, when he saw you for the first time on hologram, smiling and laughing at jokes of Dr. Strange.

Grabbing you forcefully and lifting you off the floor, he raised you in the air above his head, making you silent in fear of being smashed against the floor.

“I have fought for you.” He let out a guttural growl like an animal. “I have killed for you. I have earned my privilege to have you, and no one can challenge my right. You are my woman, and _you will stay here with me._ ”


	38. Till Death Do Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes x Soldat!Reader
> 
> You needed him to undergo mind treatment before taking him to the other location. Naturally, Hydra still wanted him, but you weren’t afraid of Soldat’s return. You beaten him. You bound him. You were stronger than you had ever been before, and no Asset could do to you what Soldat did.

It took you months to plan this operation and years to track down the Asset once he left Hydra. Captain and his lovely paper soldiers were hiding him well from the organization, and you had spent lots of time trying to hunt him down, but you weren’t concerned with it. You were a great one for waiting, day after day tracing Avengers and collecting bits of information to finally locate Winter Soldier, the first Soldat out of many. Funny, Steve Rogers and others really thought their friend was the last one.

You had to be grateful to the Soldier, one of your masters said. It was because of him you were kept out of cryochamber for so long. It was also because of him you still served as an Asset, trained by the fearsome Soldat himself. Since he left, you were considered one of the very best Soldiers of the organization, and it was partly a reason why they made you track him down.

The other reason was your intense hatred for the man who had been methodically destroying you after you became a part of Hydra decades ago.

You didn’t know why he chose you. Of course, you weren’t the only one he trained, but the only one Soldat raped time after time. He used you like you were made to fulfil his desires, not to become a tool in your masters’ arms. In the end, you had never felt like an Asset while Winter Soldier was still looming behind you. You were a broken toy Hydra was using for murder while Soldat treated you like a doll, taking whatever was left of you for his own pleasure. No memory suppressing machine could wipe this out of your mind. 

You grew used to it. Years of training and abuse and complete control were enough to made you as submissive as others. However, the thought of stabbing the Soldier in the chest had always lingered somewhere at the back of your mind. You hated him more than any of your masters. They were evil, of course, but only the Soldier knew what it meant to be an Asset. 

And he still chose to destroy you even more than Hydra did.

Of course, when your masters made you hunt him down, you were as eager as you had never been before. You had very little human left in you after all those years of serving, but anger and deep hatred were among those few emotions you could still feel. They made you keep going day after day when you were beaten for returning to your masters empty-handed. 

But you knew you would eventually find him. Despite him being a very good Asset, Soldat wasn’t perfect. He would slip up, eventually. Besides, he was trying to return that human part of him that died in Siberia 70 years ago, and it was his mistake, indeed. Only the Soldier stripped of humanity could win against the other Soldier. Captain America might be an exception, but you’d make sure Steve Rogers wasn’t anywhere near Soldat when you got to him.

And now he was there, chained to the memory suppressing machine, metal rings binding him, grim and exhausted from a fight. He didn’t look any different to you, his dark long hair still dirty, his eyes deep and dark, his body as big and muscular as you remembered. But he was there, with you, completely harmless, disarmed, unable to hurt you. It was the first time it had ever happened, and you felt a strange wicked feeling rising in your chest. Was it happiness? Satisfaction? You didn’t remember feeling anything like that before. Maybe it was what people called joy.

You needed him to undergo mind treatment before taking him to the other location. Naturally, Hydra still wanted him, but you weren’t afraid of Soldat’s return. You beaten him. You bound him. You were stronger than you had ever been before, and no Asset could do to you what Soldat did. It was your time to be his tormentor.

Little did you know it wasn’t you tracking him, but Barnes hunting you down. After his escape most Hydra’s operatives went in hiding, and cryochambers were relocated which made his task more difficult, but he was determined to find you.

Yes, Bucky knew he treated you wrong. He still remembered all the things he had done, and he wasn’t trying to sugarcoat them. Nevertheless, he wanted you back. He needed you, and, more importantly, you needed him. You needed to get your life back, your privilege to be human. You needed to be treated like a person, not a tool.

And Bucky needed a family.

Despite all his attempts to have his life back, he just wasn’t that smiling young boy who left Brooklyn in 1943. Maybe he was finally free of Hydra’s brainwashing thanks to Shuri, but he still didn’t feel fully human. Steve couldn’t understand him - in fact, no Avenger could. Even Natasha didn’t know what being an Asset meant, how badly it changed him. Of course, Barnes couldn’t blame Avengers. He was just so, so lonely.

Bucky needed a family, Steve said. It would give him the reason to fully recover and find his place in this strange new world they were forced to live in. Look at Clint, he said. Whatever was happening to him on the missions, he was always coming back to his wife and kids. They were his world.

But there was just one woman he remembered loving, the one who was with him through his darkest days when he wasn’t him but the Soldier. Maybe it was the Soldier who loved her, not him either, yet Bucky wanted her as much as that monster. Was she still there, in her cryochamber, waiting to be awaken and given orders by her masters?

He knew she was.

As you took a round piece of black plastic to put in Barnes’ mouth before wiping his memories, he suddenly chuckled, looking up at your stony face. He could tell you were tired, desperate for rest, lonely and forgotten by everyone but Hydra and him. You needed to be brought back to the world. How many decades had passed since the time when you were kidnapped? You had no one but Barnes.

Yes, he was bound by all those metal rings, but he was prepared for all of it. Stark and Steve and Banner had helped him a lot when he revealed there could be more Winter Soldiers aside from the ones who were already murdered. More than that, Shuri was now waiting for him to bring you. If she was able to wipe Hydra’s brainwashing, Bucky would get finally what he wanted.

But first he needed you to lower your guards. Though he wouldn’t have a problem with overpowering you, he didn’t want you to get even more hurt.

“Хозяева будут тебе рады.” (”The masters would be pleased to have you back.”) You said, and Bucky lifted the corners of his mouth a little.

“А ты?” (”Will you be happy to have me back, too?”)

He barely blinked, and you took a swing to his jaw, making him grunt and squeeze his eyes shut for a second. Your hand was still quite heavy, and you could put any other guy down with one blow. Not him, of course. Never him.

Licking a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth, Bucky felt he was getting harder and bit down on his lower lip. It was odd, but, for some reason, he enjoyed being tied up by you, having you think you controlled him while he just needed to lift his finger to break free. Did you know how much he loved you? Did you know how much he still cared? How desperate he was to give you all that Hydra took away years ago? 

Barnes knew you wouldn’t forgive him now despite his best efforts, but with the help of Shuri he would imprint it on your brain: you needed him. You needed him to love and protect you after all years of abuse you suffered. He was the only one who could really understand you - and the only one to save you from the world’s most vile organization SHIELD had been fighting for decades.

When you brought that piece of black plastic to his mouth again, Bucky had stretched his metal arm, and the rings binding him fell to concrete floor with a loud thud. You reacted momentarily, backing off and aiming your gun at him, but Barnes was much faster, catching the bullet with his metal hand. Oh, he could see you were surprised despite that blank expression you wore when he jumped at you, sweeping you off your feet. You fought him furiously, trying to punch, stab, and kick him, but the more you fought, the more you realized the Soldat was still somewhere there inside him. Instead of rage, now you felt fear suffocating you.

No, no, no. You wouldn’t let it happen. You wouldn’t let the Soldier take you again. Being disposed by Hydra was better than this.

However, Bucky didn’t give you a choice, injecting a syringe into your neck the moment you broke his rib. Where did he hid it? Didn’t you take away anything you deemed dangerous before binding him?

“I love you,” he said, watching you going limp on the cold concrete floor, your body slowly giving up. It was a drug made by Banner - he could calm down even the Big guy with it.

“We aren’t… capable.” You hissed through your teeth, helplessly trying to make your body move but failing again and again. Fuck, no, no, NO, NO! NOT LIKE THIS! IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!

In a matter of minutes you were no stronger than a child of a cat. No, it was called somehow differently… A kitten. No stronger than a kitten with your arms and legs giving out as Soldat lifted you up from the floor while you stared at the dirty ceiling, feverishly looking for a way out of this. How long did that drug need to be out of your system? How much time the Soldier would have? It would be enough for him to relocate you somewhere, you knew it. You’d be back into that limbo, enraged, frightened, and used. Your masters wouldn’t try taking you back.

“Stop struggling.” Bucky said as he made you drop your head to his chest, placing a little device on the lock preventing him from leaving, and in the next second something beeped, forcing a heavy rusted door to open. “I came to help.”

You reacted just like he thought you would, and a part of him was happy you could still feel at least some emotion. He thought about you being so strong that even Hydra couldn’t wipe off your personality and destroy you beyond repair. Even though you hated him with every fibre of your being, Barnes could work with that. He was relieved you felt something for him at all.

“I can help you heal. I’ll bring back the real you.” He whispered as he dropped a tender kiss to your forehead, and you clenched your teeth until it hurt.

“I will stab you in your sleep.”

Barnes laughed at that, going up the stairs in almost complete darkness and carrying you as if you were the only treasure he had ever had, forgetting about his own wounds. He had so much that had to be done to give you your humanity back. It wouldn’t be easy, and it wouldn’t be fast, but he was prepared to wait just like you waited for him all those years after his escape.


	39. Promise he kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> orc!Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Your orc husband loves taking care of his pregnant wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I actually wanted to write pure fluff, but orc!Bucky decided otherwise 🤷 Some super unrealistic biology included too ahaha

"Open your mouth, sweetheart."

You gave the orc a pouty face, and he chuckled at you, bringing a spoon with soup he had cooked for you to your lips.

"Come on. You're gonna be a good girl for me and eat well, aren't you?" He murmured softly, and you finally submitted, opening your mouth and letting your orc husband to feed you. "That's right, baby. Just like that. You have to finish the bowl if you wanna be healthy and strong."

Rolling your eyes, you took the spoon with deliciously smelling broth again, Bucky cooing at you gently as you let him feed you, his other hand on the back of your neck, helping you hold your head while you stayed in bed.

"You treat me like a kid, honey." You said, pouting before Bucky had a chance to stuff your mouth once more, and your orc let out a laugh.

"No, I treat you like an orc mommy who's gonna give birth to my sweet little kid soon."

Putting a spoon to your mouth, he made you take the soup again, but by the next minute the bowl was empty, and you finally relaxed, savoring the taste and watching your man cutting peaches with his bowie knife, the juice running down his large, work-weary hands. Despite you puffing up your cheeks, you actually loved when he was doing this to you, treating you like the biggest treasure he had ever possessed. No one cared about you as much as your sweet orc husband.

Oh, it didn't start easy, of course. When he kidnapped you, a travelling magician, you were horrified by his barbaric behavior and raw power he wielded, unaffected by all your charms and curses. Locking you up in the house he built in the middle of a forest, he made sure you knew your duties: Bucky kept stuffing your cunt with his seed till your virgin pussy became sloppy and loose, just up to his liking. Every day after he came home he was spending hours fucking you into his large bed, emptying his balls into your womb and then having fun with your mouth and ass. Bucky was insatiable, but he taught you so much about pleasure you knew your pussy would start aching if he didn't pump his cock milk inside you every day.

Of course, soon your belly became all fat and round just like your barbaric orc husband wanted to. He was ecstatic when it started to show you were pregnant with his child, kissing your belly and even talking to it as if the child growing inside you could hear him. Oh, Bucky loved it. He wanted nothing more but to make you a fat orc mama with a huge soft ass and cow breasts full of milk. It was already decided he'd knock you up after you give birth to your baby, especially since your sex drive grew much higher after you got pregnant.

"Open your mouth, darling." Kissing you on the lips, Bucky then softly put a slice of fresh, juicy peach onto your kitten tongue, lovingly watching you chew the ripe fruit. "You're so good to me today. After you're finished with your meal you gonna have a nap, and then we'll be loosing up your pregnant pussy, alright, sweetheart?"

Ooh, loosing you up, that's how he called it. Bucky had told you that orc babies could be quite bigger than human ones, and he wanted you to be well-prepared to it, meaning each day he kept pounding into your womb till you were softly crying from pleasure. You weren’t sure if his words were true, but it didn’t matter as long as your orc fucked your brains out, making you a mewling mess beneath him.

"Why not now? I wanna have your cock now." You kept being naughty, making your husband smirk and softly touch your round belly with his huge, warm hand, your mood instantly getting better from all his touches and kisses.

"Na-ah, darling. I know all you want is a filthy, nasty sex, but you gotta be a good mama and rest. Maybe then I'll eat you out and play with that sweet ass of yours, too."

Shit, it sounded perfect, you really missed having his monster cock in your ass. Your mouth watered. Finally, maybe it was worth the wait?

"Alright, but I want you to lay with me when I'll be napping." You huffed, tugging his loincloth and making your orc husband return to bed where you laid; soon he was tenderly caressing your bulging belly and brushing the hair out of your face.

Watching him smile, you left a kiss on his nose and snuggled closer against his monstrous form, comfortable with him around and happy he decided to stay. Now it was hard to believe you were so repulsed by Bucky once he captured you, thinking he was a filthy animal who wanted nothing but keep raping you till your body broke, so he would throw you out after that. Now even the thought seemed ridiculous. Turned out, Bucky was a way more considerate husband than many humans you knew. Each day by his side was bringing you lots of joy as you basked in his love, behaving like a spoiled child but still being treated like some princess, a treasure, someone your orc valued more than himself. You had no idea something like that was actually possible.

“I love you.” You muttered while cupping your husband’s face, and Bucky smiled from ear to ear, basking in the warmth of your body. 

He kept caressing your hair as you were slowly falling asleep, feeling safe and happy in your orc’s arms, knowing your child will be loved and cherished by the both of you. Murmuring words of love into you ear, Bucky stayed close to you just as he promised, adoring your sleeping form.


End file.
